Slide Away
by em-ily8458
Summary: Saoirse McAuley's life as the granddaughter of the richest wizard in Ireland has been pretty comfortable, boring and predictable so far. But, when she finds out she's been lied to her entire life, and nothing about her family is as it seems, what will she do? Is she really who she thought she was? And will those who love her be able to guide her through?
1. preface

**Hello fellow fanfiction-ers! Yeah, I'm back with** ** _another_** **Harry Potter fanfiction. I hope this one is different. I know I've said that before, but this one is definitely going to be on the more OC-heavy side. There's also more of a backstory and hopefully less clichés. Hell, I don't know, but I really like this one so far.**

 **Please review. I really like hearing from you guys, and the thing everyone says about "reviews = faster updates/more motivation" is seriously true. So please don't read and run. I really appreciate reviews. :-)**

 **I'll shut up. Here's the preface:**

* * *

 _"Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you."_

\- Loretta Young

 _Revenons à tous moutons_.

It was one of my grandmother's favorite sayings. It literally meant "return to your sheep," but it was her way of saying, "back on topic," or really, "mind your own business." She liked to say that a lot because she was a very private woman and wasn't a fan of me invading that, even in the slightest of ways. She loved me very much, but from a distance, or so I felt for most of my life. What I failed to realize in my younger years was that by telling me to mind my own business, she was attempting to keep me from learning things that she believed would hurt me.

And she was right.

The things I found out in my later teenage years did hurt. Of course they did. I found out my grandfather - the man who raised me, who I idolized, who I believed could do no wrong - turned out to be a completely different person than who I thought he was. He had a part in the death of my mother. My grandmother was too much of a coward to do anything to stop any of it. And I was caught in the middle of everything, left an orphan, to be raised by two people who ended up lying to me most of my life.

I learned very quickly that the world around me was not as I thought it was. That I was hardly who I thought I was.

And I quickly sought to change that. And I'm trying to change that. And maybe with a little help from those I love I can do that. And maybe, just maybe, we can change things for the better along the way.


	2. one - tongue prints

**Alright, I caved in and decided to post chapter one today as well. I figured that since I'm asking for reviews, I should give you something more to review. Please tell me what you think. Like I said before, if you like it, review so that you can get more of it to read.**

 **Thanks again, folks. That's all for me from now. :-)**

* * *

 _"_ B _onne chance_ ," said my grandmother. I had always called her Mémé, though, on account of her being so proudly French. " _Et sois sage, chérie_."

I smiled, rolling my eyes a bit as she clutched my hands in her own weak ones. She shook my hands and gave me a pleading look.

It was the same every year before I boarded the Hogwarts Express. She was always pleading for me to be good, even though I'd never done anything _really_ wrong. Yes, I'd had firewhiskey and gotten a little mouthy with professors before, but my behavior was still good enough to earn me the status of being a Prefect. Then again, with all the troublemakers in Gryffindor, I guess that wasn't saying much about my behavior.

"She'll be fine, love," said my grandfather, stepping in. "She always ends up fine."

He grinned down at his wife of fifty-something years, and laid a reassuring hand on her frail shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. She understood him, even as he spoke English. In fact, she understood English and spoke it perfectly well, but refused to speak anything but French because she was terribly embarrassed of her thick accent. I don't even know if my grandfather had heard her speak anything but French.

My grandfather seemed to be his wife's complete opposite. My grandmother, a fiery, but unexplainably anxious and agoraphobic - the only time she left the house was to see me off to Hogwarts - my grandfather was a wild, loudmouthed, Irish social butterfly. He'd done well for himself, coming from a poor Dublin family, and growing up to become a self-made man with plenty of galleons in the bank. He was a pureblood, sure, but he'd also done his share for supporting those who weren't, and even testified against You-Know-Who back in the day.

Mémé sighed. " _Vous avez raison, elle est une bonne fille_. You're right, she's a good girl."

"That's the spirit," Grandad grinned at her. He removed his unicorn horn pipe from the pocket of his elegant coat, igniting it with the tip of his wand. After inhaling and releasing a puff of bright purple smoke, he said, "Well, Saoirse, darling, you'd better hop on the Express before it pulls away without you. As much as I know you'd like to chat with your old grandparents, you've got better things to do."

"I suppose," I sighed, with faux-exasperation.

Grandad chuckled at me, and I smiled back, before throwing my arms around the two of them, squeezing them in a hug. Grandad shoved me off, as he wasn't the hugging type, and ruffled my already disastrous hair. Mémé hugged me tight into her dainty frame, squeezing me so hard that I feared she'd break one of her own ribs.

" _Laisse moi partir!_ " I shrieked, feeling suddenly suffocated and embarrassed to have my grandmother fawning over me in public in such a way. "Let me go!"

" _Je suis désolé, chérie_ ," Mémé apologized. She'd realized she'd embarrassed me and released me immediately.

"We'll stop mauling you," Grandad said, seeing my embarrassment. Then again, I think any other teen would be embarrassed to have their grandmother attacking them with affection in the middle of Platform 9 ¾. "And let you catch the train."

From there, we exchanged hugs and kisses and my grandmother cried a bit, but they finally let me board the train. I set my trunks on board, and continued lugged my carry-on backpack, in which my half-kneazle, Sid, was napping lazily, and the cage which contained my long-eared owl, Polly. I set out to find a compartment for myself, or a friend, before setting off to the usual beginning of year Prefects' meeting.

"Saoirse!"

I did my best to turn at the sound of my name, but clanged Polly's cage against the wall in the process, causing her to hoot in an irritated sort of way.

"Hi, Holly," I greeted, seeing the familiar blonde Hufflepuff.

Holly Kemble, though not in my house, was one of my best friends at Hogwarts. We met our first year, on the Express, when I was too nervous to talk and she was too nervous to shut up. Despite being sorted to separate houses, we had relatively similar schedules, and remained friends. I had quite a few friends in other houses, since I, unlike most, enjoyed socializing with people outside of Gryffindor.

"Oh, you've caught Polly on the wall, there," Holly said. Taking the cage from me and freeing poor Polly from the wall, she said, "I'll carry her for you, your bag there looks heavy enough without having an owl cage to manage too."

"Thanks," I said. I flashed her a relieved smile, before asking her, "I got your letters earlier in the summer, but did you have a nice rest of the holiday as well?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded dreamily. "I saw quite a bit of Cedric."

By Cedric, she meant Cedric Diggory, her fellow Hufflepuff Prefect. It was no secret to most that Holly had developed a bit of a hopeless crush on him that she'd had since third year when he walked her to the hospital wing after she'd accidently messed her face up when she'd tried to curse her acne away. He didn't return the feelings, something that was also no secret, but he was kind and liked her plenty as a friend.

"Did you, now?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in a flirty kind of manner.

"Yes," she nodded. Her cheeks flushed, and she fiddled with her blonde French braid shyly. "We sat in the same box at the World Cup, right next to each other, too….but, I got so excited when Ireland scored that I spilled butterbeer all over his lap, which killed the mood a bit…."

"You don't say," I said simply for conversation's sake.

We came into the compartment where Holly's furry gray cat, Murphy, was dozing in a basket beside her leather purse. I shed my bag onto the seat, and Holly sat Polly down on the floor carefully. Sid, my own orange and black mess of a cat-kneazle mewled, as his nap had been disturbed. He looked at me, annoyed, with his big green eyes, before disappearing into the corridor of the train. I knew he'd be back, and was unconcerned.

He always managed to find his way back to me, even when Grandad quite literally kicked him out of the house or sent him to Norway via the Floo Network. My Grandad wasn't a cat lover. He much preferred his crups, Spud and Missy, and his big old three-headed dog, Princess Maeve.

Seeing that Holly and I were alone now, I decided to continue the conversation.

In a slightly more hushed tone, I asked her, "What'd you think of all that chaos after the match, though?"

"I wasn't there, thank Merlin," Holly said, eyes widening with something like fear. "Mum had another migraine, so we took the first Portkey home after the match. Imagine if we'd been there, though, my mum's Muggleborn, y'know….and my dad has such a temper, he probably would've punched one of _those people_ in the face when they went after those Muggles….were you there?"

I nodded, and told her, "Yeah, of course I was. My Grandad sponsors Ireland _and_ gambled on them, so naturally he wanted to stay and celebrate for our win. I was over visiting with some Americans who came to support the Irish and brought all the firewhiskey….Grandad was in a right panic, he didn't even get on my case about the drinking."

"Your grandmother didn't go?" Holly asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not. She only leaves the house once a year, and that's to put me on the express."

Holly shrugged. "I _know_ that, but it's such a big event, and it wasn't _all_ that far away from where you live in Dublin, so I thought that she'd go…."

I shrugged back a bit, and she didn't ask anything else about my grandmother. I glanced down at the old, chunky, leather-strapped watch I wore on my wrist and decided we didn't have any more time to waste chatting. So, we attended the prefects' meeting the Prefect Carriage, which was extremely boring, just as it was last year, the first year we were prefects.

I could barely focus on the Head Boy's lips as he talked relentlessly about our duty to enforce the rules. Time seemed to slow down to a hideously slow pace, and Holly was acting like a broken record, letting out a girly giggle every time she saw Cedric shift in his seat in the slightest. I couldn't thank Merlin when it ended, and practically sprinted head-on into another old friend, Esther Rosenblatt, a Slytherin.

Yes, I know, Gryffindors and Slytherins were notorious for being schoolyard enemies, but Esther and I weren't. We'd known each other since we were little, so we weren't about to let something stupid like school houses get in the way of our friendship. Besides, being friends with her had its perks - none of the Slytherins really minded me, nor did they give me a hard time, because they assumed if Esther liked me, that I was alright.

"Green, huh?" I asked, chuckling.

Esther had dyed her wild locks a shocking shade of jade since I'd seen her last. She gave it a playful, sassy kind of flip to show it off to me.

"You like it?" she inquired. "I figured I might as well show _some_ house pride or something."

I laughed at her use of the phrase, "or something," and she laughed along with me.

Holly came cautiously out of the compartment at that time, and seeing that Esther was there, she recoiled a bit. The two weren't the best of friends. Esther thought Holly was a bit of a goody-two-shoes arse-kisser, and Holly said Esther was a bad influence and couldn't be trusted, because, how could anyone trust a Slytherin? I didn't listen to either of them and kept being friends with them both, at separate times, of course.

"Hey, Kemble," Esther greeted nonchalantly. "Good holiday?"

"Y-yeah, great, it was great," Holly stuttered nervously. "Well….I've got to go….use the lou, y'know….okay…."

With that hell of an awkward exit, Holly was off, walking down the corridor as if her life depended on getting away from Esther. I shrugged at my green-haired friend as she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know why you hang around people like that," Esther said to me. "You always have a knack for befriending weirdos."

"That's why I'm friends with you, isn't it?" I fired back with a cheeky wink.

"Oh, ha ha," Esther retorted. She crossed her arms, beginning to walk, turning her head over her shoulder to say, "I'll catch you later, alright?"

"Sure thing," I nodded, shooting her a big thumbs up and toothy grin.

Again, she rolled her eyes, before slipping into a compartment full of other Slytherin girls. I released a breath, and turned into the direction Holly had gone off in. I glanced into each compartment I passed, seeing some familiar faces from Gryffindor. Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan were engaged in some sort of important conversation, all looking more serious than they'd ever been in their lives. Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and a girl called Leanne from Hufflepuff were all ecstatic to see me and suffocated me with hugs, requesting that I join them for a game of Exploding Snap to pass the ride. I politely declined, since I had already promised Holly we'd sit together.

By the time I had returned to the compartment, I found that Holly had been joined by Nathan Parker, our nutter pal from Ravenclaw. I'd give Esther credit - I did befriend one weirdo, and it was Nathan. We met when he was my Potions tutor back in my second year, because I was complete rubbish in that class, and the only way to save my grade was by getting a tutor. Nathan was a genius, but he was one hell of an oddball.

I shoved the sticky door to the compartment open, joining Nathan and Holly. Holly was snoring in her seat. The rain pounded against the window.

"Saoirse McAuley," Nathan said with a nod upon seeing me.

He almost always referred to me as 'Saoirse McAuley,' rather than just 'Saoirse.' He always told me, "Your name holds a kind of indescribable Irish charm that fits you to a T, and it would be an injustice and a disservice to you if I were to refer to you as anything else."

Little did he know, my middle name was Lisette. Not so Irish.

Before I could open my mouth to say "hi," he was on his feet, and shaking my hand, telling me, "Saoirse McAuley, I've been spending my summer holiday studying the fundamental reason behind common human interactions. It seems that greeting and small talk is essential to human comfort when amongst one another, so I will make small talk by asking you how your holiday was."

"It was pretty alright, Nate," I chuckled, taking my seat. I pet Polly through the bars of her cage and added, "But, unfortunately, far less academic than yours."

"That's quite alright, though, because I expect our sixth year classes will be a challenge to most," Nate replied.

He adjusted his signature glasses, which were thick and much like Professor Trelawney's in the sense that they obscured his eyes and made them appear much bigger.

"To most?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's correct," he nodded. "While I have been studying N.E.W.T. level material since before I entered Hogwarts, I suspect that most haven't. So, therefore, it presents a challenge."

I shook my head. "Only you, Nathan Parker, would attempt N.E.W.T. level material at age ten."

"Eight, actually," he corrected with a touch of a smile. "But one learns something new every day, Saoirse McAuley, that is not to be forgotten. For example, I just learned today that your tongue is as unique as your fingerprint….actually, I was thinking about collecting samples of all my friend's tongue prints, similar to how some people have photo albums, and if you wouldn't mind…."

Immediately, I put a hand up and interjected, "You are not getting a tongue print from me, or whatever you'd want to call it. Sorry. I draw the line at you taking bodily samples from me. And where the bloody hell did you learn that?"

"I found a rather fascinating Muggle science magazine at King's Cross on my way to the express," Nathan explained. He was silent for a moment, before he suddenly and excitedly exclaimed my name, "Saoirse McAuley!"

"Nathan Parker!" I countered, mimicking his mannerisms and tone.

He, unphased by my light teasing, continued to tell me, "I nearly forgot to tell you that I've used the summer holiday to master the French language."

I raised a slightly skeptical eyebrow. He was smart, for sure, but who could learn an entire language during a couple of months?

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he nodded adamantly. After clearing his throat, he proceeded to demonstrate his French, saying, " _Je maîtrise la langue française sur mon été et c'est ma démonstration de ma connaissance_."

What he said was, "I have mastered the French language over my summer and this is my demonstration of my knowledge," but what I heard was flat French. He had learned the words, sure, but he failed in the sense that he gave the words no flair. He had no French accent. He sounded unmistakably English, and thus, butchered the language.

" _Vous avez pas de flair_!" I laughed.

I laughed so hard, in fact, that I woke Holly up with a jolt. She sat up quickly, looking around the compartment in a deranged fashion, like she expected to be attacked at any moment, from any direction.

"W-What? What's so funny?" Holly inquired, blinking her large brown eyes.

"Saoirse McAuley," Nathan said, looking rather offended. "Thinks the fact that I have no flair is ridiculously hilarious."

I groaned. " _Oh s'il te plait_ _._ "


	3. two - shots

**Back with another chapter! I'd like to thank the support I've been shown with this fic thus far, it really does mean a lot to me. So keep those reviews coming! I love hearing from you guys, honest to Merlin, so don't be afraid. I've just come home from a long shift at work (I'm a working high school student) so some reviews would do my heart and mind good right now.**

 **Okay, that's all from me now. Thanks, guys! :-)**

* * *

Once off the train and into the castle, I parted ways with Holly and Nathan, and caught up with my fellow Gryffindors. In the Great Hall, I shook the rain from my clothes. I settled into a seat between Angelina and Lee, and we conversed about our holidays with Alicia, Katie, Fred, George, and my fellow prefect, Angus Matlock, as we awaiting the ceremonies to begin.

Fred and George, by far, had the most exciting holiday, as usual. They'd been in the Ministry Box and the World Cup, while I had been stuck with my grandad and the rich, but still rowdy Irish blokes a couple of boxes over. While Grandad Apparated the two of us straight back to our cushy house in Dublin as soon as trouble arose, Fred and George got to stay during all of the real chaos, and gave a harrowing account of running for their lives from the Death Eaters, and how Harry Potter and their younger brother Ron got entangled in the Dark Mark accusations.

I dropped my chin into my hands, clinging on to every word they said, even though my expression of disinterest contradicted my true feelings. I longed for adventure and danger and everything else they seemed to have loads of, yet, I led a cushy life. My free time outside of school was spent in the confines of my grandparents' almost-mansion in Ballsbridge. On the rare occasion Grandad would let me out of the house to go to the Muggle neighborhoods to go shopping for records, or on the even rarer occasion, he'd let me use the Floo Network to go see Esther or Holly and spend a day with them at the Leaky Cauldron or something. But, for the most part, I was in my room, reading or writing about adventure and practicing my languages and listening to music made by people who had adventures, and serving as a nice, comfy bed for Sid.

I lost track of what everyone was actually talking about, as I had lost myself in daydreams of adventure a long time ago. I was completely caught off guard when the focus of the conversation turned to me, when Fred asked, "So, Saoirse, you must know what "big thing" is coming to Hogwarts, huh?"

"What?" I blurted, blinking my eyes hard as I came back into reality. I mulled over my thoughts, and quickly realized I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, and therefore said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"C'mon," Lee pleaded, like he really thought that I was playing dumb. "You've got to know something about it."

"About what?" I asked, looking around, to see if someone would give me a hint about what I was supposed to say. "I haven't heard a thing about any kind of _something_ out of the ordinary happening at Hogwarts."

Everyone around me looked rather disappointed. I felt a little guilty, and in a small voice, inquired, "...What?"

"You really don't know?" Fred pressed. "Dad, Charlie, Bill and Percy have been dropping hints all summer that _something_ big is going to happen his year, but none of them will tell us. It's got something to do with the Ministry, though, how else would they know….we all thought you'd know, since your grandad's so well connected and usually keeps you in the loop."

With big, slightly confused eyes, I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. "If he knows anything, he hasn't said anything to me, I've got no clue."

I felt like I'd let everyone down, in some weird way. If I wasn't good for being the rich, pureblood, well-connected granddaughter of Patrick McAuley, who had all the information, what was I good for? Nothing, probably.

Before I had time to completely drown myself in something like guilt, the Sorting commenced. I sat there, head in my hands, half-listening to the hat's song, while I mulled over what the whole secret event could be. I gave a half-hearted clap for each new Gryffindor that joined our table, and then realized just how hungry I was.

The last first year, Whitby, Kevin, became a Hufflepuff, and the Sorting finally came to an end. I was mentally thanking Merlin, hoping that the meal would appear any second.

Professor Dumbledore, headmaster, rose from his seat at the head of the table. He opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, and said, "I only have two words to say to you. Tuck in!"

All of the rowdy, hungry students burst into a brief applause, before diving into the food that popped up on our tables.

I didn't need any urging. I dove right in, filling up my plate with at least one of everything, and pouring myself an enormous goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Damn, slow down there, McAuley," Lee warned playfully. "Don't suffocate on your food."

"You make Ron look classy," Fred added, referring to his younger brother, who had a reputation around food.

"Shove off," I muttered through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Well, you do look like a bit of a slob, with potatoes all over your face," George responded. At least he was kind enough to pass me a napkin.

I thanked him with a slight nod at first, deciding to swallow before I spoke. "Thanks."

Dinner soon shifted to dessert, which I was all too happy to eat. I loaded up my plate once again, garnering more teasing for my seemingly endless appetite, but I didn't really care. I was hungry and I was going to eat whether I was laughed at or not.

The puddings and cakes and other sweet things were quickly devoured, and the crumbs faded off of our plates, leaving the spotless and shiny. My plate was cleaned by non-magical means, but nonetheless, began to shimmer magically with all the others with time. With the end of dessert came the end of all the buzzing and chattering that had been going on, making the sound of the angry rain and wild wind seem louder through the castle walls.

"So!" boomed Professor Dumbledore, standing once more. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once again ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

I rolled my eyes, preparing for the usual boring list of rules and regulations that no one really bothered to follow.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and the Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and came be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

"I'd rather burn in hell," Angus muttered to me.

I gave the slightest of chuckles, before continuing to listen to the headmaster.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Immediately, the hall burst out with shouts and cries of protest, especially at my table. Fred, George and Lee added in some words into their complaints that my grandmother would shove a bar of soap down my throat for. Angelina looked angry enough, but also on the verge of tears. Alicia and Katie were mumbling furiously to each other, and at the other end of the table, Harry Potter, Seeker extraordinaire, looked positively mortified.

Personally, I could give a rat's ass about Quidditch. I was just curious as to _why_ it wasn't happening.

After clearing his throat, Dumbledore continued, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you all will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts…."

Dumbledore was cut off by the sudden bursting of the doors. Illuminated by a flash of lighting was the silhouette of a man, who stole the attention of everyone in the room. I blinked twice, and squinted up my face, and when my eyes focused, I recognized who it was. It was Moody, Alastor Moody, better known as Mad-Eye Moody, ex-Auror and old pal of my grandad.

"What the bloody hell is Mad-Eye Moody doing here?" Angus whispered to me, through the silence. The only other sounds in the whole Hall were the rain and Mad-Eye's fake leg thumping against the stone floor.

I shrugged, and whispered in return, "No idea, mate."

Mad-Eye reached Dumbledore. The two old men shook hands. Dumbledore looked warm and welcoming, Mad-Eye, however, failed to lose his frightening, stiff appearance. Once their greetings were done, Mad-Eye filled one of the empty seats at the head table, speared a sausage onto a knife, sniffed it in a rather dog-like manner, and then began eating as if he hadn't eaten in a month. His magical blue eye - which had freaked me out as long as I could remember - darted around the hall, as if there was danger lurking around the hall, ready to spring at him.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said brightly to us. "Professor Moody."

"What the hell is Moody doing here?" Angus asked, but this time, he posed the question to the entire table.

"No idea," George offered. "Dad went out to help him this morning, though….got a message from Amos Diggory, saying Mad-Eye got all riled up over a cat in his rubbish or something, the Muggle please-men were involved and everything."

"Yeah, Dad had to go sort him out and get rid of the please-men," Fred confirmed. He then seemed to mull over what he'd just said, as he asked, "What are please-men, anyway?"

"They're like the Muggle equivalent of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol," Angelina substituted. She seemed a bit annoyed at the question, though she took the time to add, "Or, maybe Aurors, when things get particularly nasty. And, it's pronounced _policemen_ , not please-men."

"Thanks, Ange," Fred winked. "You know I like a girl who can really give me the facts."

Angelina grumbled, and gave him a rather impolite hand gesture. And, judging by the following sound and Fred's reaction, I deduced that she gave him a kick under the table as well.

Dumbledore's pronounced throat clearing sound drew my attention back to him, as he continued, "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred bellowed so loudly that I nearly leapt from my seat.

The hall burst out in laughter.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…."

Now, it was McGonagall's turn to clear her throat. She was our Head of House, and though I loved her to dearly, she _could_ be a bit of a killjoy.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time, no…." Dumbledore fumbled. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament….well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely."

I, unlike most, decided to take the "letting my mind wander freely," route. I'd heard of the Triwizard Tournament. I knew vaguely what it was - the three wizarding schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang all got together and sent one student in to do a bunch of crazy magical things, and whoever one, or simply didn't die, got a bunch of money and fame and glory. But, parents got really sore about their kids dying, so the whole thing was discontinued.

My grandmother often told me the story, because she claims to be a descendant of the last known winner of the tournament, a Beauxbatons student named Babette D'Aramitz, who narrowly escaped the cockatrice. Mémé had told me a few times that she wished they'd reinstate the whole thing, so that I could enter and win, and "bring back some glory to the French," as she put it. She got a little haughty and very silent when I reminded her that I wasn't _really_ French.

I also wondered why my grandad hadn't mentioned any of it to me. He was on good terms with the Ministry, who I'm sure informed him of it, to some degree….perhaps he just wanted to surprise me.

I came out of my thoughts and into reality, as Fred nearly screamed, "I'm going for it!"

Dumbledore heard, evidently, as he then said, "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put their names forth for consideration," he paused, his eyes serious, deadly serious, though Fred and George and a few others still looked riled. "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it will be highly unlikely that students below the sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them the Hogwarts champion."

It looked to me as if this comment was directed directly to Fred and George.

"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore plopped down beside Mad-Eye once more. The rest of the hall began to buzz and bubble, as students rose and talked furiously about the tournament, the fairness of it, and who was going to enter.

I, feeling rather exhausted, wished I had two wands, and could jam one in each ear so I didn't have to hear them. I hated complaints, and nearly everyone that was almost but not quite old enough to enter was complaining furiously.

"First years, first year Gryffindors, over here!" shouted Angus. "Over here, please! Come to the prefects!"

I stood by his side, yawning, as the new Gryffindor darlings assembled before us, like disoriented sheep. I found it quite funny, how confused and anxious they seemed, and recalled feeling the same way my first year with fondness.

"Alright, I'm Angus, that's Saoirse - _you think that's a funny name, do you? She's a better witch than you'll dream of being, you prat, shut your mouth!"_ Angus burst.

He had a _touch_ of a temper, to say the least. And some poor first year just got his first taste of it, though I'm positive he was laughing at a joke his friend whispered to him.

Angus cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and said, "Alright, well, if you'll please follow us. We're prefects, we can answer almost anything, but for now, we'll be showing you to our common room and dorms, which you can access by ever-changing passwords…."

Angus took over the introductions, as I herded the first years from the back. One of the first year girls forgot the trick stair Angus mentioned earlier, so I had to tug her up. She looked nearly in tears and spoke so softly that I could barely hear her, but quickly rejoined the group. Once we got them inside the common room, making sure each one of them knew the first password of the year was "Balderdash," we sent them off to their new dorms for the night.

Angus and I took our yearly shot of firewhiskey, a ritual we began our third year for good luck, shook hands, and parted ways to our dorms.

"One of us needs to enter," Alicia was saying, as I walked into the dorm with shared with Angelina, who was hastily making her bed. "Gryffindor's the daring house, after all, and none of this sounds tame enough for Hufflepuffs, say….Ravenclaws spend too much time with their noses in their books, and _Slytherin_ , well, does anyone besides the Slytherins themselves want to see a Slytherin champion? Yes, someone, one of us has got to enter…."

"Well, I'm not old enough, my birthday's around Christmas," I reminded them.

I felt a bit bad, so close, but so far away. I briefly imagined all the glory I'd gain for my grandmother, but then scoffed. Competitions weren't my thing.

"Neither am I, my birthday's in the spring," Alicia reminded us bitterly.

"My birthday's October, remember?" Angelina said, as if she were annoyed we'd temporarily forgotten. "I'll be seventeen on the twenty-fourth!"

"Right!" Alicia exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Well, that's it, isn't it? You're entering for Gryffindor, Angelina."

"Well, I'm glad you made that decision for me," Angelina retorted. "I'll do it - but just so you know, I already made that decision _without_ your input."

"Fantastic," Alicia sighed, falling backwards into her bed. "But you better win, Angelina, or I'll…."

Angelina interrupted her with a laugh. "You'll do what? You're telling me that if whatever's going to be in this tournament that _you'll_ kill me? You're funny, Alicia, hilarious."

I chuckled a bit from my spot in the adjoining bathroom, where I brushed my teeth.

"What're you thinking, Saoirse?" Angelina inquired, turning towards me.

I spat a good amount of toothpaste into the sink.

"I'm thinking that if you two keep having at each other like this, that _I'll_ kill you both."


	4. three - the secret keeper's vision

**So, here I am with another chapter. Of course, and as always, I'd love to thank all of you guys for showing support with reviews and favs and follows already! You guys are the best, and as I always say, don't be shy with reviews. I do love hearing your thoughts, and it's great motivation. It's true: reviews = faster updates. :-)**

 **Thanks guys, and enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, a silvery, elegant, but exhausted owl crash-landed into my omelette. I assumed that the poor creature was extremely worn out from it's journey, because I recognized it.

" _Pauvre Beau_ ," I said soothingly, taking the owl out of my breakfast. I ignored the strange glances I earned from my classmates. " _Long voyage de la France, eh?_ "

The owl hooted rather pathetically, but held its leg up to me. On the leg was a neatly rolled piece of baby pink parchment, which smelled of a light, familiar perfume. I untied it, unrolled it, and in French, read:

 _Dearest Saoirse,_

 _I hope by the time this letter reaches you that you have heard about the Triwizard Tournament, because I don't want to ruin the surprise. But, I guess if I ruined the surprise of it, I ruined the surprise of it. Sorry! I heard ages ago, at the end of last term, when Madame Maxime (that's our headmistress at Beauxbatons, remember?) informed me that I was one of the students she wanted to enter! I was honored, so honored, of course, but excited as well, since she told me that the Tournament was to be held at Hogwarts!_

 _The first thing I thought of was the prospect of visiting you, of course. We are like sisters, and yet, I haven't seen you since the summer when we toured the coast of Spain with my parents and Gabrielle. Remember, you had to do all the talking for us, since you were the only one who knew Spanish? Papa tried his hardest to get that Language Charm right, but….you know how that went. Anyway, Gabrielle is excited to see you as well, since she'll be accompanying me!_

 _I do hope that you are ready to see us, because we have missed you awfully. Letters are not as nice as seeing each other in person. And though I look forward to seeing you and spending time together, I look forward to Beauxbatons' victory over Hogwarts in the Tournament even more!_

 _See you on Halloween!_

 _With the most love and affection, your friend,_

 _Fleur Isabelle Delacour_

"Alright, Saoirse, care to tell us why you seem completely fine with an owl crash-landing over your toast?" Angus inquired, dabbing the food off his mouth with a napkin. "And why you seem to know this clumsy bird."

"His name is Beau, he belongs to my French friend, Fleur," I explained, as I launched him back into flight. "She wrote to tell me that she'll be coming along with the rest of the lot from Beauxbatons."

Fleur Delacour and I had been friends since we were in diapers. Our grandmothers were friends, though Fleur's grandmother passed away some eight or so years ago. They were both models for a very big name in the French robe-making industry back in the day. My grandmother introduced me to the Delacours, and in turn, Fleur, who was a year my senior and a hundred times for beautiful and graceful than I could've ever hoped to be.

"You have a knack for making friends, McAuley," Fred told me. "Everywhere you go, you've got a mate."

"Even in Slytherin," George continued. He cast a sly look to Esther amongst the other Slytherins and shuddered, before adding, "I think that's some kind of record or something. Imagine your name going in the history books: Saoirse McAuley, the first-ever Gryffindor to make friends with a slimy Slytherin git…."

"They're not _all_ evil," I said in defense of my friend. I stabbed a sausage more harshly than I had intended, and unfortunately reminded myself of Mad-Eye. "Sure, some of them are prats, but they're not all evil. Maybe some of them are. Some have been. But you can't judge everyone based on some people….Esther's quite nice."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't so nice when she rigged that dung bomb trap on us last here, was she?" Fred countered.

I laughed at the memory. Last year, Esther had pranked the master pranksters - she rigged a trap over the stairs leading to the Gryffindor tower, one that would cause an explosion of dung bombs to drop on the twins' heads. It was brilliant, and worked brilliantly. She didn't even get in trouble because, as Snape put it, there was no "real" proof that Esther was the culprit. Fred and George fumed for weeks, as it took nearly a month to get the smell of dung bomb off of them.

"That was your own fault," I replied. "You're the ones who gave her those sweets you'd jinxed, hm?"

"We didn't give them to her," Fred said.

"Yeah, _technically_ , we only left a bowl of pumpkin pasties in the Hall for anyone to take," George said. "She took one, at her own risk, and she grew a beak because of it. We didn't shove anything down her throat, did we?"

"Oh, technically, smchechnically," I groaned. "She had a beak for about a week. And, besides, you're just determined to not like anyone in Slytherin."

"With good reason," Fred grumbled below his breath.

"I'm not saying anything in the defense of Esther, or Slytherins," Angelina piped up. "But I reckon they're a bit jealous the dung bomb trap wasn't their own invention, Saoirse."

Angelina and I had a good chuckle, much to the distaste of the twins. From there, we all packed up our things, and headed off to our first class, which just happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Mad-Eye.

Though everyone seemed to be bubbling with excitement and anticipation, I didn't know what to think. I knew Mad-Eye, vaguely, as he came to our house from time to time for a visit with my grandad. I knew Mad-Eye's reputation as an Auror and now as a paranoid ex-Auror, but I didn't know how that translated into visiting grandad. I never knew what exactly it was they talked about, because whenever my grandad was "conducting business," as he called it, he was in the basement.

And I was not allowed anywhere near the basement.

I arrived in the old DADA classroom, and plunked down in my usual seat, which was beside Angus. It was the seat Quirrell had assigned us our third year, alphabetically, y'know - Matlock, McAuley….either way, no other teacher had bothered to assign us seats. There was no real reason for us to stay there; it'd simply become a habit.

A couple of rows behind where Angus and I sat, carefully taking out our supplies, Fred and George were getting the whole class riled up by tossing around a Fanged Frisbee. Where the hell they got that, I don't know, but I wouldn't doubt they nicked it from Filch.

"You two best put that way," Angus warned, turning in his chair. I didn't care enough to say anything - if they got in trouble with Moody, so be it. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, y'know."

"Oh, pull your wand out of your arse, Matlock," Fred countered with a mischievous grin. "Do you really need to be such a prefect?"

"Yeah, have a laugh," George added, making an impressive catch from a pass thrown by Lee. "For once in your sad life. Sometimes, you're such a pansy, Matlock…."

Oh, they'd done it. Angus practically had steam pouring from his ears, and I could quite literally feel the heat from his anger.

The hot-headed prefect rose from his seat, ripping his wand from his cloak pocket, as he bellowed, " _If you two dare insult me or my life or my status as a prefect, by Merlin, I'll - !_ "

"You'll what, Matlock?" interrupted a gruff, familiar voice. Angus turned, looking at the magical-eyed man, flushed with embarrassment as he shrank back into his seat. "Right, that's what I thought - you'll sit back in your seat and cool off. Weasleys - put the bloody frisbee away. As for the rest of you, put the books away. You won't be needing them."

Cautiously, everyone began to slip their books back into their bags. I caught Esther's eye. She was sitting with the girl dubbed "the most beautiful Hogwarts girl ever," Grace Zabini. Esther and I shared a shrug, wondering what the hell Moody was going to teach us, or how he was going to teach us, without books.

Unlike the calm but curious Esther, Holly, who was seated next to Cedric Diggory, looked positively mortified, being so close to such a man. And Nate was still clutching his book in trembling hands, looking like he couldn't believe a professor would dare to ask him to put a book away.

Mad-Eye called roll. His normal, plain, bloodshot eye focused on the parchment, while his magical one zoomed around, stopping briefly as each student announced that they were present.

"So, I've been corresponding with some of your old professors," Moody began in that leathery voice of his. "You're in an alright spot, I suppose….yes, kappas, boggarts, Red Caps, werewolves….alright, those things are, but I daresay you're a very, very behind where I think you should be."

Tucking his hands behind his back, Moody gave a great, noisy limp around to the front of his desk.

"You've got to know what it's really like out there," Moody informed us. Even his magical eye looked dangerously serious. "You're not going to learn any of that in some damn book. No, you've got to learn to deal with curses first hand, yes, that's the most effective way there is."

He paused, as everyone mumbled in a panic about curses. Angus and I gave each other a worried little shrug, but Holly looked on the verge of tears.

"The Ministry of Magic says you're all too young to learn about curses, that I'm supposed to teach only counter curses, and leave it at that," continued Moody. "But half of you in the room are of age anyway, and I don't think learning to protect yourself has anything to do with age. You've got to learn now, because you never know when Dark Magic will hit you. If someone comes at you with Dark Magic, they're not going to be polite and wait for you to be prepared - no, you've got to sense it, to be alert and watchful. Dumbledore agrees, he reckons you all can cope with it as well….Mr. Parker, put that book away while I'm talking to you, boy."

Nate nearly jumped out of his seat. Moody was turned, his back to us, as he glanced out at the rain beating down on the castle. It seemed impossible for Moody to have seen Nate frantically flipping through the pages of his book, trying to find the chapter on curses.

My Ravenclaw pal was silent, almost in awe as well as fearful, and dropped his book into his bag once more.

Turning back to us, Moody cracked his great, gnarly knuckles. He seemed almost casual, as if he were prepared to ask us about the weather, when he instead asked, "So….do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

After a cautious moment, a few hands slowly rose into the air. Nate, Holly, Cedric, Grace, Angus, Fred, George and Lee's hands, to be exact. Not mine. I was still feeling it out. I was trying to anticipate how the rest of the class would go.

What I didn't anticipate, though, was that Moody was actually going to show us the curses. But he did.

I was one of the first ones to leave class. I practically sprinted out. I vomited into the nearest bin. Filch caught me, looked at me in disgust, and muttered something about me having to clean up after myself. I didn't have time, as I was quickly interrupted by Esther.

"You alright, McAuley?" Esther asked, looking down at me, head tilted. "Or do I need to drag you off to the hospital wing, like Kemble?"

Holly had to leave halfway through the second curse.

"No, I'm okay," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

That was a lie, and Esther knew it. Even Grace, who stood faithfully by her side, could probably tell I was lying.

I couldn't explain it. I just wasn't okay. Watching Moody kill that spider….it was just a spider, it shouldn't have made me sick to my stomach. _It shouldn't have made my mind conjure those weird images of a powder-pink room and someone screaming, begging in French, then in English…._

"Hey, back to earth!" Esther called, snapping her hands in front of my face. "Did Moody Imperius you too, or something? I think you need to go to the hospital wing, you don't look right…."

"I told you, I'm fine," I repeated harshly. "Thanks, though."

"Alright, if you say so," Esther said warily. It was obvious she didn't believe me, but she wasn't going to push my buttons any more. "I'll see you later."

"Okay."

"McAuley!"

I really wasn't in the mood for more chit-chat, but I stood and smiled nonetheless, as Angus and Angelina and Alicia approached.

"You reckon your friend Kemble's alright?" Angus inquired. He didn't really know her, but he looked genuinely worried. "She looked bloody awful back in there, nearly passed out right into Diggory's lap."

"Mm, hardly can blame her, though, it wasn't exactly a light class to start out the year with, was it?" added Angelina.

Alicia shrugged, saying, "Well, at least we've finally got someone good. Lupin was alright, but Moody has experience, I mean, real, solid experience. And that's what we need. Kappas and grindylows aren't the only things out there, after all."

"Yeah, but he didn't really need to actually kill stuff in front of us," Angelina retorted. "Even if they were just spiders."

"Maybe you should go check on Kemble," Angus suggested. "Just to make sure she's not too shaken up."

"You're right," I said to Angus. "She'd do the same for me."

"I'll walk you over," Angus said.

I thought it was a weird offer, but judging by the look in his eye, I figured it was a ruse so we had a chance to talk alone.

"Well, we'll see you later, then," Alicia said. "We wanted to prep ourselves for Snape."

I chuckled, suddenly feeling rather lucky that I had only scraped an A on my Potions O.W.L. (and that was all thanks to Nate who tutored me to hell). Snape only let people with O's move on, and since I hated Potions with a passion, I wasn't too sore about my A.

From there, Angus and I headed towards the hospital wing, both feeling exceptionally lucky we were only Average in Potions. As soon as he was certain no one was going to hear him, he swallowed hard, and turned to me.

"Sorry I blew up at the twins back in class," he said lowly.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're apologizing? For something you do at least forty seven times a day?"

"Yeah, I guess I am," he chuckled. "It's just….I get paranoid. When George called me a pansy, I got a bit panicky….I thought, y'know, by using that term, that they….they _knew_ …."

Now, I was grinning at Angus sympathetically. Now I understood why a little teasing got him so furious, and I felt a little bad, to be honest.

"Angus, I'm sure it was just a word, not some sort of clue to anything," I assured him in all honesty. "It's Fred and George. When it comes to anything other than pranks and mischief, they're pretty dense."

Angus gave me a small, but grateful smile, and asked, "You really think so?"

"Of course," I nodded. "And even if they did know, or _anyone_ knew, for that matter, I'd give them hell for you if they ever got nasty."

He laughed. "That's why you're my Secret-Keeper, McAuley."

I laughed, too. Of course, I wasn't a real Secret-Keeper. He just teased me by saying that because I was the only one he trusted to tell that he was gay.

We came to the big doors that led into the hospital wing, and Angus said, "This is where I leave you, for now."

"Thanks," I grinned.

He was gone, trodding back down the stairs, and I went inside to see if Holly was having a nervous breakdown or not. I turned back towards the wing and opened the doors, to be scared to death by Madame Pomfrey.

"Miss McAuley, did Professor Moody's lesson sicken you as well?" she inquired, in a huffy sort of tone. "I've got to have a conversation with that man, showing those things to children…."

"Er, I'm just here to see Holly," I told her earnestly.

"Alright, that's fine," Madame Pomfrey replied. "She's in the last cot down there. Bit shaken, but she'll be fine once her stomach settles."

"Great, thanks," I nodded.

I walked down the row of cots, and sat myself down on the one next to Holly's. She was lying down, curled in a ball facing me, her face ghostly pale and her brown eyes even wider and bigger than they usually were.

"How're you feeling, Hol?" I asked lightly.

"That was horrible, Saoirse," she said in a low, eerie sort of way. "Horrible."

"I know, I was a little affected by it all as well," I said. "But are you alright? Do you feel okay, I mean?"

"I don't know," Holly said. Her eyes, which had been focused on the floor, finally met mine. "Just seeing someone use the curses for real….my Uncle Al was killed by one of them….my dad told me all kinds of horrible things he'd seen as an Auror, but seeing them today it just….it made everything so real…."

There was a fat silence. I understood what she was saying completely, after the weird vision or memory I had of the powder-pink room and the screaming….though I would never admit that to Holly, or anyone, because I was sure it was a hallucination. Either way, it was terrifyingly real, and brought to life by Moody.

"Yeah, I get it," I said finally, seeing as Holly was staring at me expectantly.

I was, after all, supposed to be her voice of reason, and spacing out and looking scared as well wasn't going to help her any. Even though the words left my mouth, Holly didn't look convinced. She looked like she was trying to read my expression and figure me out, though her puzzled look indicated she couldn't read the strange thoughts swirling in my mind, the thoughts about the powder-pink room.

"Well," I sighed. I stood, dusting my hands off on my thighs through my robes. "I just wanted to make sure that you made it out of Moody's class alive. If you're okay, and in no danger of death, I'll let you sleep it off, alright?"

"Okay, thanks," Holly muttered. She pulled the blankets around her face, and told me, "I think I'm going to need to be sedated if I have to sit through Moody's class for the rest of the year."

I gave a tight smile. "Hopefully not. See you."

"Thanks, Saoirse."

I nodded, turned on my heels, and exited, only after escaping from Madame Pomfrey, who was still convinced that I was sick and needed treatment. When I did finally escape from her medically-concerned claws, I nearly ran head-on into George.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, standing right outside of a door?" I asked sharply, annoyed that he'd gotten in my way.

"That's top secret, McAuley," he said, flashing a wink, before sprinting off to Fred, who was a few paces away.

They were gone in a millisecond, and I rolled my eyes, imagining what kind of prank they'd dreamt up now. Sometimes, I wondered what it'd be like to be their Secret-Keeper. It'd definitely be more interesting than being Angus', at least.

But, I didn't have time to ponder all of that. I had other thoughts to mull over for the moment being.


	5. four - a lion crest

**I don't really have much to say today, other than my usual thank you and reminder that I love reviews :-)**

 **Here you are...**

* * *

"Saoirse McAuley, don't you dare look so defeated. You're brilliant. You simply need to engage your mind a bit more, study a little. I have perfect confidence in you and your abilities in Transfiguration."

I groaned, giving Nate a bit of a stink-eye, as I felt he was being a tad patronizing with me. McGonagall had given us our first essay of the year, and I'd done rather miserably. It wasn't the writing itself that was bad, because I was excellent with words when I wanted to be, it was just that I had no idea what I was talking about, as I hadn't actually done the summer reading over nonverbal Transfiguration like she told us to. I was pretty angry with myself too, because usually Transfiguration was one of my better subjects. I'd gotten a D on the essay. I'd gotten an E on my O.W.L. I was supposed to have started the year out more successfully than this.

"Don't patronize me, Parker," I grumbled, flipping the page in my Transfiguration textbook.

"I am not patronizing you," Nate said. He was staring at me hard through his thick, round glasses. His blue eyes looked even more enormous than they usually did. "I am telling you the truth, Saoirse McAuley. I think you are perfectly brilliant, but lack faith in yourself, something vital to success, especially in education. I know you are wonderful with Transfiguration, so if you simply put in a pinch more effort, you'd succeed. And, of course, I'd be happy to help you with that."

"Well, thanks, Nate, but I'm sure half the professors here think my grades are only because of you," I sighed.

"Don't say such a thing!" Nate cried. He seemed outraged. "Just because I helped you pass your Potions O.W.L. last year….you did perfectly well on everything else, and with Potions, you just needed that extra shove. It wasn't as if I sat through your exams or anything."

"Snape thinks I cheated off you or something," I told Nate. "He gave me a funny look after the exams, after that Ministry bloke said I did just fine…."

For the first time, I saw Nate roll his eyes, as he said, "That's only Snape. Who cares about Snape? He's a bit of a….well, he's a bit of a _prat_ isn't he?"

I exploded with laughter, as I'd never heard Nate speak so normally before, let alone call someone a prat, especially a professor. It was so not Nathan Parker to say such a thing, it was so completely out of the blue and ludicrous that I couldn't help but to laugh my arse off. I was practically weeping with hysterics, so I didn't even notice when we were joined by Esther.

"Have you actually made her laugh, Parker?" the green-haired Slytherin inquired, sitting cross-legged on the grass with us.

Nathan stared at her, and replied, "I suppose I have, but I have no idea how I did it."

Unlike Holly and Esther, Nate and Esther actually got along. They both found each other fascinating. Nate fascinated Esther because he hardly ever acted human, and Esther fascinated Nate with her sarcasm and snark.

"So, anyway, I see you survived your vomiting episode," Esther remarked casually.

She ripped a handful of grass out of the ground, as she gazed across the Black Lake. Autumn and cold would soon approach, so Nate and I decided to get some of the nice weather while it lasted by studying in the shade of an oak outside. Now that Esther had arrived, though, Nate had retreated back into the world of his book.

"Don't remind me," I groaned.

"And has Kemble survived?" Esther then asked. She'd started ripping the blades of grass in twos.

"Yeah, she was shaken, but not stirred," I joked lamely.

"What about Matlock and the Weasleys?" Esther continued. "What were they doing up to the hospital wing with you?"

"Well, Angus wanted to talk, and thought we'd get a moment alone walking to the wing together," I informed her. Then, I raised an eyebrow, and asked, "But what'd you mean about the Weasleys?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you," she retorted. "One of them ran off after you and Matlock, and then the other one told the first one not to….hell, I don't know, I thought you'd know."

I shrugged. "Probably planning some stupid prank that they didn't want Angus and I interfering in, I don't know."

"Alright," Esther said, though for some reason she still looked suspicious. Changing the subject, she questioned, "How'd you do on that Transfiguration essay?"

Crumbling, I sighed, "Dreadful. Literally."

"Y'know what I'm having trouble with, it's all those bloody nonverbal spells," Esther told me. "It's so much easier just to _say_ things, rather than wrack your mind about it…..like why can't I just go _Accio! Accio!_ Why've I got to think about it? _Accio!_ That's so much easier, for Merlin's sake…."

With each _Accio!_ she uttered, she jabbed her wand towards the grass for dramatic effect. On the last one, though, something strange happened - the ground began to rumble in a certain spot, the grass rising and the dirt as well, as if something was trying to get out from under the ground. Esther and I jumped back, as if we thought the ground was about to attack us, but Nathan, being ever-curious, dug the dirt a bit to reveal what Esther had inadvertently summoned - a shoe-box sized mahogany box.

"What the hell is that?" Esther said, raising her eyebrow.

"It appears to be a box, my dear Esther," I joked.  
"Ha, ha, ha," Esther said sourly. She looked to Nate. "What is it, Parker?"

"Well, as Saoirse McAuley said, it is a box," he muttered, scrutinizing the lid after he dusted the dirt off. "And, it appears to bear Saoirse McAuley's family crest."

"What?" I nearly yelled, leaning closer to him so I could see.

"Look," he said simply.

He thrust it under my nose. Indeed, on the top there was an etching of the family crest that I was so familiar with - the crest with the lion and the four-leafed clover, the crest that my family had for Merlin knows how long. It was on the walls in my house, it was on nearly everything my grandfather owned, and even etched into the floor of the itty-bitty flat grandad had grown up in. The McAuleys' weren't always rich, but they sure as hell were always proud.

"What the hell….," I muttered, taking it into my hands.

I tried to pry it open, to no avail. Esther tried, Nate tried, but none of us could get it open. Finally, I got a bit frustrated and resorted to _Alohomora_ , which didn't even do the trick. Nate tried a couple of charms I'd never even heard of, to no avail. We finally came to the anticlimactic conclusion that the box had been jinxed shut.

"Bizarre," Esther breathed.

Her eyes met mine, as she'd been peeking at the box over my shoulder, like Nate was.

"It certainly is out of the ordinary," Nathan concurred. "But, there is evidence that in this universe, things happen for a reason. I do not believe that this is simply coincidence."

"Let's bury it again," I said quickly. The box felt heavy and searing in my hands.

"Why?" Esther asked. "It's yours, like Parker said, it's meant to be, or something."

"I think it would be interfering with the mechanisms of the universe to bury it again, Saoirse McAuley," Nathan told me. "It's yours, rightfully, I do believe."

"Okay, fine," I said. I was staring down the box like it was human. "But it's still kinda weird, isn't it?"

"To say the least," Nate agreed. He glanced down at his tarnished, faux-gold wristwatch, and said, "I believe it is time for lunch."

"I believe you are right," Esther concurred. She stood, dusting her hands against her robes. "Because my stomach says it's time for lunch. I'm starving."

Nate stood after Esther. He walked after her, too, his nose still deep in his book. It was amazing to me that he could walk and read like that, and only rarely crash or bump into something. I really wondered how his brain worked. But, right now, I wasn't wondering that.

I was fixated on the box bearing the McAuley family crest on it, and tucking it beneath my robes. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt the the box was giving off heat of its own.

It was just my imagination, probably. I was probably just freaked out that of all things, it had my family's crest on it. The McAuleys had a bit of a reputation throughout wizarding history - even when they were poor - so it wasn't completely unthinkable that some McAuley at some point in time had buried a box or time capsule at Hogwarts.

Before joining everyone else in the Hall for lunch, I chucked the box into the bottom of my trunk. Now that I'd rationalized it, I'd lost interest, and decided to ask Grandad about it over Christmas holiday.

On my way to the Great Hall, I ran into Angus, who was red-faced, as if he was in the midst of running a marathon. That, or he was very nervous.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked, looking him up and down.

"I've got," he began. He swallowed a breath, hard. "I've got to go re-take that test with McGonagall. I'm late, she'll be furious….I've got to go, no time to chat, Saoirse…."

"Alright," I said, still puzzled by his demeanor. I watched him zoom off towards the Transfiguration room, and called, "Good luck, then!"

Shaking my head, I made my way to the Great Hall. Something in the back of my head told me Angus wasn't being honest, but….I didn't think too much about it.

"Where've you been?" Angelina inquired when I finally arrived to the Gryffindor table. "It's not like you to be late to a meal."

"I was studying with Nate," I said. "I had to use the toilet on my way up. And when I say I had to use the toilet, I really had to use the toilet, Ange."

Rolling her eyes, Angelina replied, "Thanks, I really needed to know that."

"Not a problem," I winked, helping myself to a tuna sandwich and goblet of pumpkin juice. "Pass me that bowl of apples, would you, Lee?"

"There you are," Lee said, sliding the crystal glass bowl down the table.

"Thanks, mate," I replied. I put the two reddest, juiciest-looking ones on my plate, before pushing it back to the center of the table.

"You said you were studying with Parker?" George asked. He glanced at me, then back down at his peas, which he prodded with his fork. With a sly kind of smirk, he added, "I'm starting to think you fancy that nutter."

Fred and Lee sniggered. Fred looked a little strange - worried, maybe? I didn't know. I did know that all of them thought Nate was a complete and utter nutter, and didn't understand why I wasted my time with the "freak of Ravenclaw." They only considered him slightly above Esther, in terms of eligibility to be in a Gryffindor's presence.

"I don't fancy him," I said. It was almost funny that they'd suggested it, even in jest. "I couldn't fancy him, I'm fairly sure he traded in emotions for brains. And he's not a _nutter_. He's got a brain to rival Dumbledore's, he's just…. _eccentric_ _,_ I guess, that's the word for it _."_

This time, even Angelina was laughing. I stared them down, a bit frustrated that they wouldn't believe me. I knew they'd never believe me and I wasn't going to waste my breath on the matter anymore.

"Well, to change the subject a bit, I do hope you get to be our Champion, Angelina," Fred said. He took a swig of his drink, and said, "You'd be brilliant."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "Fred Weasley, was that an honest-to-Merlin compliment? I'm shocked."

With a slick grin, Fred shrugged, and winked at Angelina. He said, "Only telling the truth."

"Oh, you fancy her! He fancies, you, Ange!" I teased. "Imagine that! Fred and Angelina, hm, no, _Frangelina_ ….I can see your wedding being announced in the _Prophet_ already."

"I won't deny it," Fred replied bluntly.

He didn't look phased. Amused by me, sure, but not phased. Angelina, though, looked as if her feathers had been ruffled, as she brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Please," she scoffed playfully. "I'm way out of your league, Weasley."

"We'll see," Fred winked.

"Get a room!" Lee shouted. "Someone get these two a room before they start shagging in the Hall!"

"Shut it, you prat, before people start staring!" Angelina whispered harshly.

Judging by Lee's howl, she'd given him a good kick to the shin below the table. She smiled at Fred, who smiled at her. George watched the two of them. He looked jealous. But that was understandable. Almost every other boy at Hogwarts fancied Angelina, and I couldn't say I blamed them.

But, I was certain no one fancied me.


	6. five - by carriage and ship

**Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I posted the last chapter, but I've been SO busy with school work, homecoming weekend, and, of course, my non-fanfiction pieces of writing which I have been plugging away at. Anyhow, I'm back with another chapter, and another huge THANK YOU for all the support. It's awesome and I really do appreciate hearing from you guys. Really. I'm not just saying that. It means a lot. So don't be afraid to review and such.**

 **That was a lot more than I usually say. Wow. Okay, that's it, here's the next chapter. :-)**

* * *

The end of October seemed to arrive in a matter of seconds, which, to most was wonderful and exciting. The end of October meant Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were due to arrive and the Tournament was due to start, which was exciting in and of itself. I was excited for it all as well, but I was also excited to see Fleur and Gabrielle again.

A week before they were due, a large notice tacked up outside of the Great Hall, that read:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

"Brilliant," Fred said, cracking a knuckle. He laid a hand on George's shoulder, and told him, "Only one more week to perfect our plan, Georgie."

"Mhm," George nodded.

I sighed, and with a roll of the eyes, asked, "Do I even _want_ to know what you two have planned? Not that it'll work…."

They shared a glance. They shrugged. If I knew them at all, which I did, and had since first year, they were planning something extraordinary. Their brains rivaled Nate's, in a completely different way.

"Probably not," Fred said. "But it's top secret anyway, isn't it?"

"Speaking of, we'd better get working," George suggested. "Got to find Lee, too."

The two of them were off, conspiring all the way, leaving Angelina, Alicia and I.

"They're mad," Alicia said. "Dumbledore said not to try if you're not of age….at least whatever they're planning will be entertaining, I'm sure."

"True," I agreed with a shadow of a grin. I turned to Angelina, asking, "What's happened with you and Fred?"

Angelina shrugged. "Not much. I fancy him enough, I guess, he's just so….unpredictable. Cares more about jokes and such more than anything else, too, so there's not much time to actually get anywhere with him, is there?"

"Yeah," I nodded, thinking on it. "Well, if you care, I think you'd suit each other. Maybe you'd get him - and George, by proxy - to cool their brooms a bit."

I was fairly sure I saw just a touch of a blush on Angelina's cheeks and ears as she said, "Alright, Saoirse."

* * *

The next week came and went in a blur. Classes were rough. Moody was his odd, paranoid self. McGonagall gave us stacks of homework. The castle was being scrubbed clean, and was looking better than I'd ever recalled it looking. Angus and I were both told, that as Prefects, we were to keep everyone on their very best behavior for our guests. Everyone seemed on edge with nerves or excitement.

The evening of October 30th finally arrived, thank Merlin, and we were all called to assemble in front of the castle to greet the foreign delegations. My stomach was buzzing. I was anxious to see what the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were like, and of course, see my old pals Fleur and Gabrielle and catch up with them.

However, it was a bit chilly standing before the castle, so I jammed my hands into my pockets, pulled my Gryffindor-red beanie down well over my ears, and rocked on my heels to try and generate warmth from the motion. The sun was setting quickly, taking with it whatever warmth was left. I was starting to see my breath in the air, and my toes were really cold now, only having the protection of Chuck Taylors. I should've worn my combat boots with some thicker socks, but now it was far too late. On top of that, my stomach was rumbling with hunger.

I wished Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would just show up.

Dumbledore, who was perched on the stairs amongst other staff members, finally said, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?!" everyone began shouting, including myself.

We craned our necks, peering into the dim sky and over the grounds, trying to figure out where the hell Dumbledore was looking.

"I don't see any damn Frenchmen!" Angus muttered, annoyed.  
"There!" Lee cried, jabbing a finger towards the forest's horizon.

"Where the hell are you looking?!" I shouted.

I felt like an owl; my head was spinning round and round trying to spot whatever it was everyone else was seeing.

And then, I saw it. A giant powder-blue mass was hurdling towards us, being pulled by enormous creatures….I immediately conjured an image of a warped version of Father Christmas in my head, but I knew that couldn't be right.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked a frightened first year.

"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!" corrected another.

The second first year's guess was closer to reality - a massive, powder-blue carriage of sorts was coming in for a hot landing, pulled by a dozen enormous golden horses with gigantic wings. I watched with my jaw dropped in awe, as I recalled Fleur telling me about Madame Maxime, their headmistress, keeping a herd of flying horses in the garden adjacent to her office. Each horse was as big as an elephant, and I could only imagine what kind of food and how much of it that it took to keep them alive.

Everyone jumped as the Beauxbatons carriage collided with the ground with tremendous force. I leapt backwards, being a bit startled, and fell right back into George. I landed with a thud on top of him in the grass, and he irritably told me to get up so he could get a look at the French girls. I rolled my eyes.

The golden elephant horses had come to a stop, and a boy in powder blue Beauxbatons robes exited the carriage, opening the doors and setting down a staircase for the others. An enormous woman, who I guess was probably bigger than our Care of Magical Creatures professor (which was quite the accomplishment), excited first. Judging by her elegant black and opal outfit, I assumed she was the headmistress, Madame Maxime.

Though some gasped at her size, and laughed at Fred's crude remark about it, I didn't pay much attention, as I was trying to see Fleur or Gabrielle.

"My pupils," Madame Maxime introduced grandly, with a wave of her great hand.

Then, a gaggle of powder-blue clad students emerged gracefully. Front and center were Fleur and Gabrielle, as blonde and beautiful as ever. I waved ecstatically, though it took them a moment to find me and wave in return. The Delacour sisters, like their other fellow Beauxbatons students, seemed cold - their robes were fine silk, and without cloaks, it was understandable. Some huddled together for warmth, while some wrapped scarves around their heads.

After a short chat with Dumbledore, and mentioning something about single malt whiskey for the horses, Madame Maxime and crew went into the castle, presumably to warm up.

A strange noise began to rumble across the grounds.

"The lake!" Lee hollered, pointing at it. "Look at the lake!"

Sure enough, a great ship rose from the inky waters, a ship like one a pirate would've had a couple hundred years ago. The water swirled around it, as it came into full view in all its greatness. Then, in the pale moonlight, the ship became animated with silhouettes of people - Durmstrang students, presumably - as they disembarked onto land through the portholes. They all wore thick, bulky cloaks, causing me to come to the conclusion that it was very cold wherever Durmstrang was.

Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster, began to chat with Dumbledore, but everyone else was focused on a very burly and slightly greasy boy with a hooked nose. He stood by the headmaster's side and was the subject of many whispers around me, like, " _Look! Look, it's_ him, _it's really him!"_

"Who exactly is he….?" I asked, having no clue why this student was enamoring everyone so.

Angelina, Lee, Alicia, Fred, George, and even Angus turned to stare at me as if I'd just told them I'd been wined and dined by You-Know-Who.

"That's _Viktor Krum_ , Saoirse," Alicia told me, as if I was mentally challenged. "Only the best Quidditch player on the face of the earth. Plays for Bulgaria. He just played in the World Cup, for Merlin's sake! Blimey….I had no idea he was so young, though…."

From there, all of us Hogwarts students started to shuffle into the castle, after the Durmstrang lot. I was quickly ignored, as were my inquiries about Quidditch (something I didn't follow at all) and Viktor Krum (who I still wasn't intrigued by). If everyone was going to spend the rest of the year fretting over this Krum bloke, I figured it was going to be a hell of a long year.

Once inside with all the pleasantries out of the way, I finally found Fleur amongst the Ravenclaws. As soon as she saw me, she engulfed me in a great hug. Fleur looked airy and delicate, but in reality, she was anything but.

Speaking in French, of course, Fleur greeted, "Saoirse! It's so lovely to see you again, after so long! Honestly, if you weren't attending Hogwarts, I don't know how I'd survive it here for this Tournament….is it always so cold here?"

I laughed, and replied, "No, Fleur, but you're not in France anymore are you?"

"Unfortunately," she said, her smile fading. She looked about the hall, seemingly unimpressed. "We really should've had this at Beauxbatons, it's so much more beautiful than here. Our grounds, too, they'd be perfect for such a thing…."

"Saoirse!"

Before I could even blink, I was hit hard by a smaller body. Glancing down, I saw that another silver-haired French girl had grabbed me by the waist, burying her face in my robes with the intense hug - it was Gabrielle.

"Gabrielle Delacour, how on earth did you get to Hogwarts?" I asked playfully, prying her off so I could look her in her pretty, part-Veela face. "You're not even old enough to go to Beauxbatons yet!"

With a little giggle, Gabrielle informed me, "Madame Maxime let me come because Fleur was chosen as a candidate for the Tournament. Isn't that great?"

"Mm, if you're ready for a year of me driving you mad," I winked.

Gabrielle was almost like a little sister to me. I had earned the right to have some fun with her.

"Well, we should really get to eating, shouldn't we?" Fleur suggested. "Won't you join us here, Saoirse?"

"I've got to sit with my own house, but you're welcome to come with me," I replied.

Fleur took one look towards the Gryffindors, who looked exceptionally rowdy in comparison to the meek Ravenclaws, and shook her head.

"Well, you should talk to my friend Nathan Parker, then," I suggested. "He'll have lots of information to help you get acclimated to Hogwarts. He's there, in the glasses."

Fleur's glance followed my pointing finger. She didn't look too impressed by the long-haired boy in glasses I was gesturing to, but she drew a breath and held in any ill comments she had. I bid her goodbye, returning to my Gryffindors.

"Bouillabaisse!" I exclaimed, seeing an enormous pot of one of my favorite French dishes in the center of the table.

"Er, bless you?" Angus uttered.

"No, no, _this_ is bouillabaisse," I said, shoveling it into a dish for myself. "It's French, and delicious, try it."

"No thanks," he said, tucking back into his Yorkshire pudding.

"Saoirse," came Lee's voice. "You know _that_ girl?"

'That girl,' was Fleur and most of the male population of Hogwarts and Durmstrang were staring at her. It was her Veela blood that made most males in her presence wild and intoxicated. I envied her in sometimes, because no one ever was infatuated with me, with my plain, slightly frizzy hair, alien-green eyes, and smattering of freckles. But, then again, I knew Fleur's love life wasn't easy - she told me that most boys didn't listen to her or take her seriously, really, they just wanted to stare and shag.

"Er, yeah," I nodded through a mouthful of bouillabaisse. "That's my friend Fleur, who wrote to me earlier, remember? The owl crashing at breakfast?"

But, the boys weren't really listening.

"You didn't tell me you had such attractive friends, McAuley," Fred said, craning his neck to check out Fleur. "You know any of the others?"

"The others don't matter mate, just look at that one," Lee said, prodding Fred in the ribs. "What's her name again?"

" _Fleur_ ," I repeated, annoyed. "And I don't think either of you are her type."

"We'll see about that, after I win the Triwizard Tournament," Fred countered. He puffed his chest out, and added, "Who could resist a Triwizard Champion, after all?"

"Come off it, you're not even old enough to enter," Angelina grumbled. I think she was actually growing jealous, something I never thought I'd see from Angelina, at least in the sense of her love life.

"Doesn't matter," Lee brushed off. "To get with a girl like her? I'd do just about anything. They don't make them like _that_ at Hogwarts. Don't you agree, George, Angus?"

Angus, who of course had no interest, muttered something like, "Sure." On the other hand, George sipped his pumpkin juice and muttered something like, "They make them okay at Hogwarts."

Before anyone had a chance to interrogate George on his statement, Angus pointed up to the head table, since two Ministry officials had arrived. I recognized them as Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

"What're they doing here?" Alicia asked, squinting up at the Head Table.

"Someone had to organize it, huh?" I replied. "Probably here to see it off."

The feast soon came to an end. Each and every plate and dish was cleaned magically and completely, and shone and sparkled before disappearing completely. A pleasant kind of tension swept over the hall. Everyone was anticipating the beginning of the Tournament, especially the daring folks I shared my table and house with.

Dumbledore rose, saying, "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

While Mr. Crouch earned a decent applause, Bagman's was far better received. I recalled something about him playing Quidditch when he was young, so I figured that's why everyone gave him a warm welcome, considering the way everyone reacted to that Viktor Krum bloke.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," continued Dumbledore. "And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. Now, the casket, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who'd been lurking in the corner, wheeled a great jeweled casket up to Dumbledore.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore announced. "And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways….their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and of course, their ability to cope with danger…."

"As you know, three champions will compete in the tournament. One from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

With a grand flick of the wand, Dumbledore caused the casket to come open, revealing a brilliant blue flame. After closing the casket, he continued.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."


	7. six - the choosing of the champions

**Hello friends! I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry there isn't going to be a real regular posting schedule for this fic, because, well, I have a lot in my life right now. But, I'm going to keep writing and updating when I can. This fic is a bit different though, because unlike most of my others, I don't just write a chapter and immediately post it (a bad habit). I have three more chapters written as of right now, but I'm going back through and editing more before I post to ensure that I'm posting my best, most coherent work.**

 **And as always, thank you guys for the support. Seeing another fav or follow or another review never fails to bring a smile to my face, honestly. I really do love hearing what you guys have to say in particular, so thank you so, SO much for the reviews and don't be afraid to leave one or two :-)**

 **Thanks again guys! :-) Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning was Saturday, and as I did almost every Saturday, I overslept. I rushed to the Prefects' bathroom for a perfumey bath and dressed quickly, to rush off to the Hall to eat whatever scraps were left. Usually everyone was pretty much done and gone.

But, today, I was shocked to walk in to find the Hall overflowing with people. On top of the excess students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the Hall had also been decorated for Halloween - gangs of bats fluttered around near the enchanted ceiling, and carved jack-o-lanterns grinned and glowed in each nook and cranny. I realized I'd forgotten about Halloween. It probably would've slipped my mind completely if the decorations weren't there.

"Have I missed much?" I asked, finding Holly amongst some other Hufflepuffs, who were watching some Beauxbatons students put their names in the goblet.

"It depends on what you find interesting," Holly shrugged. "Those two Weasley twins from your house put their names in. Guess they took an Aging Potion, 'cause they sprouted beards to rival Dumbledore's. A bunch of the big Slytherins put their names in, too. We're waiting for Cedric. He's putting his name in, y'know."

Her brown doe eyes glistened with admiration. I supposed she still wasn't over her infatuation with Diggory. He was good looking, sure, I wasn't going to disagree there, but he was just a little too pretty for me. I liked a little bit of roughness around the edges, which Cedric Diggory certainly didn't possess.

"So I'm assuming you're going to be rooting for him, that he gets his name in?" I inquired, taking a bite out of my granny smith.

I expected her to leap off her feet in support of Diggory, but she did no such thing. Instead, she inhaled deeply, and replied, "Well, I suppose….but….well, I want to support him, but it's going to be so hard, Saoirse. What if he gets hurt or dies? I don't support that kind of recklessness, but if he wins it for Hufflepuff….that'd be brilliant, wouldn't it?"

I stared at her, realizing that I myself hadn't really considered the danger of the whole thing. I guess that was the Gryffindor in me.

"That's true," I replied. "I never thought about it that way."

"You should," Holly told me. "Your friend Angelina already put her name in."

At that moment, the Hufflepuffs erupted with joyous cries of applause, as Diggory had just dropped his name in. He was sucked back into their crowd, as they exited, cheering up a storm. With them, went Holly, leaving me alone to munch on my apple and ponder the real danger behind the Triwizard Tournament.

I decided it wasn't worth it to stand and stare into space with thought, so I found my way back to the Gryffindor common room. Angus and Angelina were on a couch by the fire. Angus seemed to be doing homework, while Angelina looked extremely preoccupied, though her Transfiguration book was open in her lap.

"Hey, congratulations, Angelina," I greeted, pulling up a plush ottoman before the two. "I heard you put your name in the goblet this morning."

"Yeah, thanks," Angelina responded distantly.

I looked to Angus for some explanation for Angelina's demeanor, to which he shrugged and said, "Love pains, Saoirse."

"Love pains?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't call what happened this morning _love pains_ ," Angelina retorted sharply. She looked at me playing with my wet hair, wrapping it around my fingers, and narrowed her eyes. "Do you want me to fix your hair for you? It's only going to get all knotted and nasty if you keep doing that."

"Sure," I said, tossing a scrunchie towards her. She took her position behind me, and started to French braid my shoulder-length hair. I asked her, "So, what exactly did happen this morning, Ange?"

"Oh, Fred and I had a bit of a row," Angelina informed me. "I just mentioned him looking at the French girl….I thought we had something, y'know, so I was curious as to why he'd be looking at other girls….it was stupid, really, we just went at it. But still, he shouldn't be looking at other girls like that…."

She pulled a strand of my hair particularly hard.

"Ouch, that's my _hair_ , Angelina!" I yelped. "I thought you were braiding my hair, not scalping me!"

"Sorry," she responded lowly. Her fingers went back to their gentle rhythm, though a particular spot on my scalp still throbbed. "I got a little heated there."

"To say the least," I grumbled, thanking my lucky stars that she was finishing securing the scrunchie on the end of the braid.

With a sigh, Angelina plopped down next to Angus once again.

"I don't know," she began. "I just think I fancy him so much….it gets in my head sometimes and I acted so stupid earlier. You two get that, don't you?"

I certainly didn't. I'd never really fancied anyone before. Sure, back in our third year, Angus made me kiss him to make sure he was gay, and I'd briefly dated Adrian Pucey last year after Esther set us up, but I wasn't head over heels for either of him. Pucey was a decent snog, really, and he always paid for my meals. That was about it. I didn't get butterflies in my stomach or anything, and if he talked about an attractive girl, I could've cared less.

"Yeah, sure," Angus and I replied, nearly in unison.

Angelina sighed. She clearly didn't really believe us. She said, "Well, I'll apologize to him, then, I guess that's the best thing to do."

Right on cue, Fred and George sauntered into the common room, and chuckling as they stroked their now beardless chins. Angelina got suddenly nervous, as she popped up from her seat, and hollered to Fred. The two of them left through the portrait hole once again, leaving only George to join Angus and I.

"All debearded?" I inquired.

"Yeah, I kinda miss it, though," George replied, touching his cheek. "I think it would've looked nice with a few braids and bows."

"Yeah, that would've been a great look for you," I replied.

"Fred and I could've dyed them different colors, so people would finally tell us apart," George added. "We'd do them special for Quidditch matches and everything…."

"But did you two actually get your names in the goblet?" I inquired.

Shaking his head, George said, "No. Didn't even get near it. As soon as we crossed the line, we were thrown backwards with our beards. Your friend, that French girl, the one Lee and Fred were gagging over, she got her name in, though."

"Fleur?" I said. "Yeah, I knew she was going for it."

"And as she was going, every male in the room had his eyes glued to her," Angus added, sounding a bit exhausted. "She's just a _girl_ for Merlin's sake."

George gave a slight shrug in agreement.

Tilting my head, I asked George, "You don't find her attractive?"

He shrugged again. "Neither does Matlock."

I struggled, trying to find the right phrase. Of course, I knew why Angus didn't fancy Fleur, but I wasn't going to say it, so I said instead, "Well, that's because Angus has a very particular taste."

"Maybe I do too," he suggested cheekily.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher that statement.

Angus, stuffing some of his notes into his History of Magic book, rose from the sofa, and announced, "Excuse me, but I've got an appointment."

"On Saturday?" George asked skeptically.

"Yes," Angus retorted firmly.

I opened my mouth as he stood, since I felt as though there was something he wasn't telling me. He saw my look and gave me a cheeky wink.

"Later, Saoirse," he told me, before ducking out the portrait hole.

I held in a giggle. I had a feeling Angus had a date.

George clearly didn't have the same thoughts as I did. His eyes flashed between me and the door, and then he asked, "Are you two….?"

He made a rude, euphemistic hand gesture.

Now, I bursted out laughing.

"No!" I nearly hollered through the laughs. "You can't be serious, George, Angus and I?"

"What about you and Parker, from Ravenclaw?" George prodded.

Now he was being truly preposterous, and I nearly exploded with laughter, kicking my legs as well.

"That's hilarious, George," I said, wiping a tear from my cheek. "Imagine!"

"Yeah," he agreed, smiling. "Imagine snogging Parker, it'd be like snogging an old textbook, wouldn't it? I bet Matlock's a very angry snogger, that wouldn't be fun either…."

We both had a pretty good laugh, until George decided to change the subject to something completely out of the blue.

"Remember the day we first met?"

I raised an eyebrow. "How could I forget it? But why are you asking?"

Chuckling, George said, "Fred and I saw your grandad, the famous Patrick McAuley, and asked him about that story about him having a manticore over for dinner. Mum nearly died of embarrassment when we did that."

I laughed, recalling the day in my mind. Me, little meek and chubby-cheeked eleven year old me, in the shadow of my affluent grandad in Diagon Alley, and two redhead twins bounding for him and throwing questions about manticores and dinners.

"That was a proper introduction to the Weasleys," I said. "You two really haven't changed. You're still as mischievous as ever."

Shrugging, George crossed his legs. "I suppose, but our little Freddy may be settling down. The way he and Angelina fought this morning, you'd think they were married already. I just hope she doesn't knock all the fun out of him."

"Oh, she wouldn't," I responded. "Things would be really boring without you two wreaking havoc. You two are the best entertainment around."

Once again, George chuckled, or something like it.

"Well, thanks McAuley," he said, smiling at me. "I'm glad you find us entertaining."

He said it as if I was insulting him, prompting me to ask, "Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Yes, but we're not _solely_ entertainers," he informed me. Leaning forward with a playfully mysterious expression, he said, "We're up and coming _businessmen_."

"Ah," I nodded with wide-eyed sarcasm. "Excuse me, then."

"I'm serious!" he retorted. "You'll see, we'll be rich like your grandad, living in a mansion like you, too."

I rolled my eyes. "Money isn't everything, George. My mémé shares my grandad's money, but she's living her life locked in house. And she's not exactly the _happiest_ person either."

"Well, we'll be rich enough to impress your grandad, that's for sure," George said. "Finally, I'll…."

"Hey, Saoirse, do you have a minute?" came Alicia, interrupting George. "You're good at Transfiguration and you're great with words, would you mind proof-reading my essay for McGonagall?"

I sighed, accepting the paper Alicia thrust into my hands as she took the seat across from me.

With a light smile towards her, I said, "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

That evening was the Halloween feast. Nobody really cared about the Halloween part, though, because it was also time for the champions to be chosen for each school. On top of that, it was our second feast in the row, so it wasn't at all as exciting as the Halloween feasts of years past. People scarfed down their food anxiously, or barely poked at it at all. I, being myself, was one of the ones scarfing down their food.

The feast ended after what seemed like an eternity, as I felt my own stomach begin to bubble with anxiety like everyone else. What if Angelina was chosen? And if she was, what if she died? Or, what if it was Diggory, and the Hufflepuffs got all the glory? Or what if it was Diggory, and he died, and I'd be stuck comforting Holly for the rest of eternity? What if Fleur was chosen for Beauxbatons, and she died?

The goblet of fire was amongst the head table, the flames roaring. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked anxious, and I think I even caught Madame Maxime biting at her nails for a moment. Crouch looked bored, and Bagman was winking and interacting with anyone who happened to glance in his direction. Dumbledore seemed to be the only calm one, as pleasant and serene as ever.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," he announced. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

With a wave of the wand, every light in the hall went out instantaneously. The goblet of fire was the remaining source of light, beaming more brilliantly and brightly than ever, the flames dancing with decision….

"Any second now," Lee said, brimming with anxiety and excitement. He leaned forward in his seat, as did most of us.

The blue flames burst into red, and a single slip of parchment flew out to be caught by Dumbledore.

"The Durmstrang Champion," read Dumbledore. "Will be Viktor Krum."

Applause rang through the hall, as the Krum bloke rose from the Slytherin table, and marched the path Dumbledore had previously announced.

After the clapping died down, the goblet did the same thing, blasting red, and expelling a new piece of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore. I felt my heart race, for Fleur. "Is Fleur Delacour!"

I clapped more furiously now, and even stood as I watched my French friend wander off after Krum. She was beaming with pride and looked more beautiful than ever, her silver hair flowing and her pretty cheeks flushed with pride.

The goblet flashed red once more, expelling the third and final parchment - the parchment for the Hogwarts champion, who we were all waiting for.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called. "Is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuffs were louder than I ever imagined they could be. The rest of us clapped too, but weren't all that enthusiastic. All of us at the Gryffindor table were particularly disappointed, as we were rooting for Angelina as champion. I felt bad for my pal, and comforted her by a pat on the back of the hand. She looked upset, but knowing Angelina, she'd definitely pull through.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real…."

Dumbledore fell silent. The goblet turned red once more, and in a flash of sparks, emitted a fourth piece of parchment.

With the hall silent, Dumbledore caught the paper in his long fingers. I was so confused, I couldn't even imagine what was happening, but I was just as shocked as everyone else when Dumbledore read:

"Harry Potter."


	8. seven - jealousy & generosity

**Hello all! After quite the busy week & weekend, I'm back with another chapter. I don't have much to say except I'm exhausted and I hope this chapter satisfies you all. **

**As always, thanks for the support, it really is great and never fails to make me smile to see that people actually READ my fics! Remember, reviews are a fanfiction writer's lifeblood, so don't be afraid to leave a few behind. Thanks! :-)**

* * *

Dumbledore had told us to go to bed after the champions were chosen, but that seemed to be the last thing on everyone's mind. Instead, everyone had started a party for Harry. Fred and George nicked food from the kitchen (they also brought firewhiskey, but I doubt that came from the kitchens), Lee found a way to make the radio really blast music, and Alicia and Angelina really decked out the common room in all sorts of Gryffindor regalia. Everyone was so happy to have a Gryffindor champion that they forgot about the fact that Harry most likely became champion by illegal means.

Everyone was so fixated on Harry that no one noticed Angus and I, who sat inconspicuously in the corner, sipping our firewhiskey and minding our own business. I figured it was the perfect time to ask him about that "appointment," since no one seemed to care what the two of us were discussing.

"Well," Angus began, sipping his drink. He looked particularly mischievous. He leaned forward, and spoke in a husky and slightly drunken whisper, as he admitted, "I've been snogging Malcolm Preece!"

I squealed, but clamped my hand over my mouth so as not to draw attention.

I asked, "Preece, in Hufflepuff?"

The only thing I knew about Malcolm Preece was that he was in our year, in Hufflepuff, and played Quidditch. I figured I'd have to inquire more about him when I saw Holly.

"Yes!" Malcolm squealed in response.

The alcohol was starting to get to him, I could tell. He didn't have a high alcohol tolerance like I did. I suppose that came with being Irish.

"Shh, you're drunk as shit," I told him, though I was starting to laugh.

I was laughing because he had been reduced to a pile of giggles in his chair.

"Angus, for Merlin's sake, calm down," I said. I took the firewhiskey from his hands, though he didn't really notice. "You're seriously fucking drunk."

"I know," he said dreamily. "Isn't it fabulous?"

"Merlin," I groaned. I sunk into my chair and sipped my drink. "Why is it that everyone's getting snogged but me?"

"Because you're _olicitious_ ," Angus slurred.

" _Olicitous_?" I repeated with a laugh. "What's that mean, mate?"

"Like," he said, waving his hand around like a moron. "When you don't notice things….what the hell is the word, then, Saoirse?"

" _Oblivious_?" I tested.

"That's it!" Angus exclaimed with a snap of the fingers. "Yeah, you're _oblivious_ , Saoirse, that's it."

I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

"Because," Angus started. " _Loads_ of blokes look at you. I mean _look_ at you. You've got those big green eyes….they're very strange looking, aren't they? You look like a leprechaun woman…..anyway….yes, blokes, yes, that's where we were - they _do_ look at you, Saoirse."

"You need to sleep the alcohol off, mate," I told him. I started helping him up. "The party's over, Matlock."

"Fine," Angus sighed, exasperated, as he fumbled his way towards the boy's dorms. "But remember what I said about your eyes - they're really _biz-ah_ , So-cha."  
Shaking my head, I laughed at him lowly, as I made sure he survived the trip up the stairs. After a few falls, he did make it up, so I went back to the party. I figured it was about time to tell everyone to hit the hay, or else McGonagall would march up here and do it herself. If anyone needed her sleep, it was McGonagall, so I figured I'd let her rest and tell everyone to sod off myself.

"McAuley!" cried a very drunken George. "Dance with me!"

"No thanks, I really think we ought to - ….," I began, only to find myself completely shut up when George yanked me into waltzing position.

So there I was, trapped in a sloppy walt with an intoxicated George in the middle of the common room. The radio was now blasting Celestina Warbeck's "You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me." I only knew the song because Celestina Warbeck (obnoxiously) performed at one of my grandad's Christmas parties one year. Lee and Fred, who were also rather drunk, twirled around George and I, waving Gryffindor banners as they and George belted out the lyrics.

 _"This feeling's utter bliss_

 _Yet something seems amiss_

 _Like a Dementor's Kiss_

 _You're consuming me!_

 _And now you've torn it quite apart_

 _I'll thank you to give me back my heart!"_

The song came to a musical interlude, and by Merlin, was I glad. Fred, Lee and George weren't going to win any singing awards, but they surprisingly knew the lyrics spot-on.

As George twirled me round again, I asked, "Why do you know the words to Celestina Warbeck so bloody well?"

"My mum," he told me. He was stunningly well-coordinated for being so drunk. He dipped me back tango-style, and finished, "Listens to her all of the time. I wouldn't be a proper son of Molly Weasley without knowing at least forty-seven of Celestina Warbeck's songs by heart."

Standing upright again, I tossed my head back and laughed, as I said, "Well, she'd do well with my Mémé, then. She plays Celestina Warbeck's records all the time while she knits."

"They just might be soulmates, McAuley," George said. "Knitting and Celestina Warbeck's music are pretty much my mum's life, y'know, after raising seven children and such."

After a few more twirls and giggles and the last few verses of the song, I decided to call the party to an end. I stood on one of the coffee tables and threw my arms up, commanding attention.

"Okay, you party animals, get the hell to bed!" I hollered.

Some people groaned and grumbled, but everyone listened to me (eventually), and began to trod off up the stairs to the dorms. I sighed and hopped off the table, deciding that I was going to be the responsible one and clean up after everyone. I had only just started to gather up firewhiskey bottles when I was shouted at.

"McAuley! Leave that for the house elves, they actually enjoy cleaning!" hollered Fred from the bottom of the boys' stairs.

I decided that Fred was right, and that I was too tired and too almost-drunk to do any decent job anyway. I took one last look around the common room and wished the house elves luck - we'd left them a hell of a mess to clean. I sighed, and bid goodnight to Fred and Lee, as they were the last ones left besides me, and headed back to my dorm.

I fell into bed, feeling too tired to brush my teeth or shower or anything. I figured that could be left for the morning. Instead, I curled up into a tight ball, all comfy and cozy beneath my mound of blankets.

My head was filled with a strange realization: I actually enjoyed drunk waltzing to Celestina Warbeck with George Weasley.

* * *

"Bloody hell, if I hear one more person groaning about Potter becoming a champion, I'm going to stab my eyes out with my own wand," I groaned, clutching my books to my chest as I muddled down the hall alongside Angus. "Alright, I understand it isn't exactly _fair_ , or whatever, but it happened and it's over with and everyone needs to get over it."

Angus shrugged. A gaggle of fourth-year Slytherins passed, their "POTTER STINKS," badges anything but discreet. I rolled my eyes. I was paying more attention to the annoying Slytherins than where I was walking, and harshly grazed my already burnt hand against the stone wall.

"Bloody hell," I mumbled, attempting to shake the pain out of the back of my hand.

"What's wrong with you?" Angus inquired.

"Got a bloody burn on my hand," I said. "I like Professor Hagrid - you know I do - but those damn Skrewts he's got us taking care of, they're going to be the end of me. I can usually see some kind of beauty in most creatures, but not them."

"You should just drop the class, then," Angus suggested. "And see Madame Pomfrey about that hand."

"No," I replied. "I can't drop the class, it's too late in the year. Besides, I genuinely like the subject, just not the Skrewts, and I wouldn't want to offend Professor Hagrid by dropping the subject….I'm the only one in the class who dares to get near the beasts as it is now…."

"Well, you still should see Madame Pomfrey," Angus said. He glanced down at my hand with a shudder, being squeamish anyway. "That looks nasty."

I glanced down at my hand, which was still covered in a thick, mucus-like paste that Professor Hagrid assured me would heal the burns. So far, it hadn't done much.

"No, that's from Professor Hagrid," I informed Angus. "He said it would help the burn, but it hasn't done much of anything so far."

"It looks like someone vomited on your hand," Angus cringed. "You should really see Madame Pomfrey. She could _actually_ fix you up."

"Oh, I'll survive," I told him as we came into the Great Hall for lunch.

We came to the Gryffindor table, and I dropped my things next to Angelina, who was already at the table along with Katie. Before I could sit, I was ambushed by a loud girl shrieking at me in French - Fleur.

"What kind of nonsense is this? Madame Maxime assured us that this would be a fair competition, but yet this little Potter boy becomes a champion for Hogwarts? Two champions from Hogwarts? I cannot believe that this was allowed to happen, with all of the Ministry men too! Saoirse, what kind of madness is this?"

"Fleur, Fleur, settle down, will you?" I replied to her in French. Wiping the goop off my bad hand with a napkin, I continued to say, "I don't know what the hell happened either. But think about it - is a _fourth year_ really going to beat you in this thing?"

With a heavy breath, Fleur fell silent. She seemed to be processing what I just said to her. A look of serenity came over her face, and she replied, "I suppose you're right. I'm much better at magic that the little Potter boy must be….still, Saoirse….it shouldn't have happened…."

She skirted away as her Beauxbatons friends urged her back to their little group. I shook my head and took my seat as the food appeared magically on the table.

"Everyone really needs to shut it about Harry," Angelina said, as I sat down beside her. "He got in. I wish I knew _how_ but he's in."  
"Agreed," I said through a mouthful of roast beef.

"And he did it without growing a beard," Fred added. He, George and Lee joined the table.

"Wish he'd just _tell_ us," Lee said. "It's not like it matters now."

A few shrugs were shrugged. Angelina changed the subject as she sighed and said, "I kind of wish we still had Quidditch this year. Especially now that I'm not Champion….without Quidditch, what am I supposed to do in my spare time?"

Cheekily, Fred replied, "I'm sure we can find _something_ to do to occupy our time, Ange."

"Prat," she fired back, though she was laughing.

Relationships. I didn't understand them.

"So, Saoirse, what exactly is that you're wiping off your hand?" Katie inquired as I got the last bits of paste off.

I sighed, and admitted, "Professor Hagrid's burn remedy. The Skrewts got me, _again_."

"Need me to kiss it and make it better?" George offered, waggling his eyebrows.

"No thanks," I responded sarcastically. "Haha, very funny though."

"Your loss," George shrugged. "I've heard that I'm very good."  
"At snogging your pillow, yeah," Fred chuckled.

We all laughed, and tucked back into our lunches with idle chit-chat to pass the time. Just as Angus took his last sip of pumpkin juice, he stood up very suddenly and checked his watch.

"What?" he asked, seeing as everyone but me was looking at him oddly. "I'm a busy man, places to go, people to see….I'll see you later."

He winked at me and I flashed him a quick thumbs-up, as I had an idea where he was going. With a quick glance over the shoulder, I saw Malcolm Preece bid goodbye to the other Hufflepuffs, and scurry out the door after Angus. I was so happy for him, finally finding puppy love.

"Is Matlock cheating on you?" Fred inquired.

I rolled my eyes. "We're just _friends_. Why can't you lot get that through your thick skulls?"

"I dunno, you're always together," George said, poking at his food.

"Please, that doesn't mean they're _dating_ ," Angelina said in my defense. I flashed her a grateful smile, and she added, "People of the opposite sex can just be friends, y'know."

"Thank you, Angelina," I nodded.

"Well, they seemed like more than friends at the party last week," George said. He looked to me, and said, "You were very handsy, getting Matlock up to the dorms, hm?"

I rolled my eyes, and retorted, "Merlin, he was drunk out of his head and I was getting him to bed so he could sleep it off. I would've done the same thing for you, if you'd been that drunk too."

George opened his mouth with a counter, but it was Angelina who beat him to speaking. She said, "By Merlin, will you just shut up? I'm sick of you pestering her about Angus and Nathan Parker because you're jealous."

"Jealous?" George repeated, as if she'd just accused him of murder. "I'm not jealous, I'm simply…."

But once again, he was cut off, as my grandad's familiar eagle owl came by with a letter. It said:

My _Darling Saoirse,_

 _I do hope your sixth year is going great. It's a shame that they made the new rules about the Tournament though, making you too young to enter, because if there's anyone with more McAuley family tenacity than you, I'll be damned. Anyway, your grandmother misses you something awful (she made me tell you that - too busy knitting in her little room to write you herself) but that's not the point._

 _I've sent you along the latest copy of the Prophet. Check out the cover story! It's me, your old man. Thought you'd be pretty proud of your old grandad. And, not to spoil anything for you, but be prepared to see me on the 24th next month._

 _Much love,_

 _Grandad_

I set the letter aside, and saw the front of the Prophet, which featured a large photo of my grandad, in a glossy black suit, smoking his unicorn horn pipe, and smirking at the camera from behind his enormous mahogany desk in his office. The article read:

 **MCAULEY MAKES GENEROUS DONATION TO TOURNAMENT**

 _Renowned for his charitable acts and aid to the Ministry during the You-Know-Who trials, Patrick McAuley has made an enormous donation to the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament, which has not been held for two hundred and two years, is taking place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _"Of course, I've know about the Tournament for months now," McAuley, 62, tells Prophet reporters from his Dublin mansion. "I've got plenty of Ministry connections, y'know. Had to keep an air of secrecy though, so now's when you lot are finding out that I donated to get the show on the road."_

 _Though McAuley was not able to disclose any details about the specifics of the Tournament, he did say that some of his donated money (a large sum of galleons) will be used for the transportation and care fees of imported creatures._

 _"It's a shame they imposed the new age rule, though," McAuley told us. "My granddaughter, Saoirse - she's sixteen now - would've been a great representative for Hogwarts. Anyway, it'll be quite the spectacle, that's for sure."_

 _While we do not know anything else of what McAuley knows about the Tournament, or just exactly how much he donated (though we know it was a substantial amount of galleons), we must commend Mr. McAuley on his charitable acts. It is rumored that he is the number one candidate to receive the Outstanding Wizard of the Year award from the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge._

 _His wife, former French model Mathilde Loisel, refused to give a statement to us about her husband._

"You're grandad's so cool," Lee sighed.

Everyone had been reading the article over my shoulder, much to my displeasure.

"Why do you think that?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"He's rich!" Fred exclaimed, as if I were stupid to ask. "Why do you look so miserable? You should look proud, or something."

"I dunno, it's just….," I sighed, trying to find a way to say what I meant without sounding like a complete prat. "He's always getting publicity. It's normal….nothing exciting, really…."

"Imagine that," Fred remarked. "Being so rich and famous that things like this don't even phase you."

"That your grandad wouldn't even miss a few thousand galleons," Lee added.

"Oh, c'mon," I grumbled. "You're acting like I'm some kind of snob. And what's the big deal about money anyway?"

"Okay, you're no Malfoy," George admitted. "But you're on thin ice."

"Thanks, but that didn't answer my question," I retorted.

"Well, if you must know, we're fixated on money because we don't have any," Fred informed me sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes. "Just because you want it doesn't mean it's the end all…."  
George cut me off and said, "No, Saoirse. We don't _want_ it, we _need_ it."


	9. eight - tickling the pear

**Hello again! Back with another chapter. I don't have anything new to say, really, so I'll just throw a big huge thank you out there to anyone who has supported my fics, especially this one. Also, a reminder that reviews are a fanfiction writer's lifeblood, so please don't be afraid to drop one or two off here :-)**

 **Thanks again!**

* * *

I was not a person who ever really found herself regretting anything, but I sure as hell regretted introducing Holly and Fleur. The two of them were painfully alike (something I had somehow failed to realize) and when they got together, painfully annoying. They were both into hair and makeup and fashion and gossip, and Holly seemed to want to emulate Fleur more and more the more time they spent together. I even caught Holly in Charms trying to pin her hair in the same way Fleur does, but her dirty blonde locks were defiant and not graceful, like Fleur's silky silver hair was.

The worst part was Holly trying to speak French to me. Everytime she saw me now, she tested out her limited knowledge of the language, and by Merlin, she made Nathan seem like he had passion behind his words. In other words, her French was _pitoyable_ \- pitiable.

I was minding my own business, nose-down in my Defense Against the Dark Arts book, studying my ass off. I was in the library, somewhere I knew Holly preferred not to lurk. I was trying to get my essay done for the damn class (Moody has assigned us yet _another_ essay on illegal curses and 'constant vigilance') and Esther was beside me, blowing gum bubbles and subsequently popping them.

"Why're you even bothering to do that?" she inquired after some time. I looked up at her and she said, "Why do it? I'll let you borrow my Copy Cat Quill."

"You're the best, Est," I sighed gratefully, slamming my textbook shut.

"I know," she replied sarcastically, brushing her green-dyed hair over her shoulder. She then asked, "You think I should re-do the green or switch it up?"

"Hm," I contemplated. I dropped my chin into my palm and scrutinized her curls, which were not as vibrantly green as they once had been, and asked, "What color were you thinking?"

"Purple," Esther told me. "I was thinking red too, but then everyone would think that I was trying to support Gryffindor or something."

She mocked vomiting after saying the name of my house. I chuckled a tad but then rolled my eyes at her.

"Oh, we're not all evil," I retorted.

Esther shrugged. "Still wouldn't want to look like one, though….you think purple would look decent?"

I shrugged this time. "I think so, but it depends what you think, really."

Esther seemed to mull over the idea, before she changed the subject and said, "So, I saw your grandad in the _Prophet_ a little bit ago."

I really rolled my eyes this time, and let out an exasperated sigh. I said, "Don't remind me."

"What, isn't it all fun and games being a rich little McAuley girl?" Esther teased, though she knew how it really was.

"Oh, yeah," I breathed sarcastically. "Loads of fun."

"Your folks aren't that bad," Esther reasoned.

"No," I agreed. "I just wish they weren't so strict and stuffy, y'know? Everything has to be so _formal_. It's like, everyone sees me as this McAuley Princess or something, and I'm really the peasant picking potatoes out back."  
Esther laughed at my strangely specific comparison, and said, "Yeah, you've always been the little punk of your family."  
I threw my combat-booted feet up on the table and raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

She laughed again, and asked, "Mhm, and what do you think your grandad would say if he found out you shagged Pucey last year?"

"He'd probably keel right over," I told her honestly.

My grandad was a conservative kinda guy. Well, maybe he wasn't, but to him, I was still about five years old so the idea of me shagging anyone would probably mortify him. He barely got over the fact that Adrian and I kissed after we got off of the Express last year when we were going home for Christmas break. If Grandad hadn't been friendly with the Pucey family already, he'd probably have cursed Adrian's arse off right then and there.

"Probably," Esther agreed. "I think you two should take up shagging again. I liked you guys together; it really pissed a lot of people off, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together. Unless he was a bad shag….was he?"

"No," I giggled, shaking my head. I felt my cheeks flush as I admitted, "He was quite good, actually."

Esther burst out with such loud laughter that I literally had to slap her, before half of the school showed up to see what the hell she was laughing at.

"Sorry," Esther muttered, wiping the tears away from her eyes below her glasses. "It's just hilarious to me, hearing about your sex life."

"Yeah, well, it's nonexistent now," I informed her.

Esther chuckled, just as Madam Pince appeared out of nowhere, hollering, "In the library after hours, and talking in the library? Out! Out!"

Neither of us dared to argue, and immediately gathered our things as Madam Pince practically shoved us out. She threw the doors shut behind us with a haughty kind of sigh.

"Well, so much for that conversation," Esther said.

"Yeah," I half-yawned. "See you tomorrow?"  
"Sure thing," Esther nodded. "Have fun with the Gryffindors."

"Have fun with the Slytherins."

Esther and I parted ways, literally. The Slytherin common room and Gryffindor common room were literally in opposite directions when coming from the library.

I came up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and caught a familiar ball of black and orange fuzz mewing at the door - it was Sid.

"You always find your way back, hm?" I cooed, picking him up in my arms.

He felt fatter - I assumed that he'd been getting food from other students and from Hogsmeade like he usually did, since I hadn't seen him since the start of term. He was a stray when I found him after all, and I was pretty sure I hadn't done too well with the whole domesticating process.

Sid gave a kind of annoyed mew in response as I lugged him through the entrance hole. Inside, plenty of people were still awake, doing homework, chatting, sipping tea, and playing Exploding Snap. I decided to join Fred, George, Angus and Alicia by the fire, where they sat and sipped butterbeers.

"Why'd you have to bring back the demon cat?" Angus inquired.

I took a seat next to him and he scooted away, as Sid was still in my arms. It was a well known fact that Angus was just as fond as Sid as my grandad was.

"He's not a demon," I replied, kissing one of his ears that was torn in a fight. "He's a big baby. Look at him, Angus, how could you resist this adorable little face?"

I shoved Sid's scarred and slightly squashed face into Angus', and he jumped back again, looking as if he could vomit. Looking rather bored, Sid yawned.

"Easily," he muttered. "That's one hideous creature, Saoirse."

"Oh, he's cute!" Alicia protested, petting Sid's head.

"Cute?" Angus echoed in disbelief. "He's missing most of his ears! And those eyes….he looks like he's ready to kill me….I swear to god, that cat's possessed….."

"He's just tough," George shrugged. "He's got battle scars. And as far as looking like he wants to kill you….well, I don't blame the cat there, Matlock, you can be a bit of a prat."

I laughed, thankful in some sort of way.

"Also, Saoirse," Angus started in, in that way of his. "You left your Gribblydook work behind at lunch."

He proceeded to shove my notebook and textbook towards me, as I sighed and corrected him lowly, saying, "It's _Gobbledegook_ , not _Gribblydook_."

"Whatever," Angus shrugged off.

"Gobbledegook?" Alicia echoed. "Isn't that what goblins speak?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"I didn't know you were learning Gobbledegook!" Alicia exclaimed. "I knew you were doing _human_ languages, but not _Gobbledegook_ , out of all things."

"Well, I am," I shrugged. "I finished the major Indo-Iranian languages a couple of weeks ago, and McGonagall suggested I get started on non-human ones. She said to start with Gobbledegook, and that after that Mermish would probably be pretty easy after that."

Alicia shook her head and remarked, "You've got such a brain for languages, I just don't know how you do it."

I shrugged. "I dunno, I guess growing up trilingual started me off right for learning languages."

" _Tri_?" questioned Fred. "I thought it was just French and English?"

"And Irish," I added.

"Of course," Fred replied playfully, with a roll of his eyes. "How could I have possibly forgotten about that?"

 _"An-ghreannmhar_ _,_ " I replied with a shake of the head.

Before I could say anything else, my stomach spoke for me, letting out the most monstrous growl I'd ever heard. Sheepishly, I looked up to the others. Angus and Alicia groaned and Fred and George laughed. I guess the reactions could've been worse.

"You know what, McAuley, your stomach is telling me that you should accompany us on a little excursion," George said with a wink.

He and Fred stood up in unison, as Fred dusted his hands on his robes and inquired, "You think she's ready for this top-secret information?"

"I think so," George nodded. "C'mon, McAuley."

I stood, and then realized that I should probably ask, "Where exactly are we going? I mean, I'm down to go anywhere with food, but where exactly are we going?"

With a gleam of mischief in their eyes, the twins informed me, "The kitchens."  
"Finally!" I yelped with victory.

I'd been trying to get them to show me how to get into the kitchens for years, but they never would tell me. They said it was for my own good, that if I got into the kitchens just once, I'd have to have the whole student body roll me out afterwards.

"You're a prefect!" Angus protested. "You're not supposed to be galavanting off to the kitchens!"

I glanced at Fred and George, and then back to Angus, and shrugged. Angus let out a great groan and rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to fight me on it even though he wanted to, and I could tell he _really_ wanted to. He was trying to work on his temper, after all.

"C'mon, then," George prompted, tugging my wrist. "We don't have all night."

My stomach had taken over my brain, as I wasn't really processing our conversation. I was much more concerned with the fact that I was going to be eating very soon, something that I looked forward to immensely. I did note the directions to the kitchens, however, because I could imagine myself taking more than a few trips down by myself in the future.

We went down the stairs that led to the level of the castle below the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff dorms and common room were down here, something I knew from hanging out with Holly, though I'd never been inside. Hufflepuff was the only house at Hogwarts to have a common room never be seen by the eyes of a student from another house. I'd been trying to get Holly to let me in ever since I found that fact out, but she refused, saying something about not wanting to disrupt Hufflepuff pride and tradition.

Past the stack of barrels that hid the Hufflepuff dorms was an enormous painting of a bowl of fruit that I'd seen plenty of times in my history at Hogwarts. We stopped before it, and Fred and George gave a drumroll against the walls before gesturing to the painting in a grand sort of way.

"This is it?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow. Thus far, I was not impressed.

"Wait before you judge, McAuley," Fred told me, shaking his head.

"To get in, you've got to do _this_ ," George said.

I watched as he tickled the pear in the painting, causing it to erupted in high pitched girlish giggles. In a matter of seconds, the pear transformed into a bright green door knob.

"You can do the honors," George told me.

"Thanks," I replied cheekily as they bowed to me.

I opened the door to the kitchens, and of course, I was amazed.

The room before me was the same size as the Great Hall above, with five tables assembled exactly as the tables upstairs were, one per house and one for the staff. A great fire roared at the head of the room, with a bunch of kettles of various sizes hanging over it, probably with food cooking inside. About a hundred or so house elves bustled around in Hogwarts tea cloth togas, carrying pots and pans and cleaning things, looking all too happy to be doing mundane chores. Some of them carried dirty cooking things over to a big basin of water along the wall, where others washed them in the soapy water. When they saw us, the stopped what they were doing and bowed to us, ready to serve.

"Merlin, and I thought we had a lot of house elves at home," I breathed in awe.

"How many do you have?" Fred asked sharply.

"I dunno," I shrugged, trying to guess. "Twenty, maybe? Definitely not this many."

"Merlin," Fred muttered, shaking his head. "And mum still makes us clean the house like Muggles…."

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley!" squeaked one of the elves who stepped forward. "We is very happy to see yous again! And who is the young Miss you brought with yous?"

"This is Saoirse McAuley," George introduced. "We brought her down for a late night snack."

"Oh, then sit Miss McAuley, sit, sit, please!" urged the little elf, as he nudged me into a seat. It was clearly a seat for an elf, as I was much too big for it. "What is it that you would like to be eating? We can make everything that you would be wanting, Miss McAuley, please do tell us."

"I really do fancy breakfast," I said.

I'd been served by house-elves since birth, so I'm used to them. I knew how some people thought their lives were sad, enslaved ones, but in reality, they'd be a billion times more miserable if they were free.

"This is the life, isn't it?" sighed Fred, relaxing into the seat across from me.

The elves came in waves, delivering plates of various breakfast items.

"You said it," George agreed as he took the seat next to me. He cast me a sly look and said, "But you're used to it."

"Merlin, I didn't ask to be born a McAuley," I grumbled. After thanking the little elf who delivered a mile-high stack of pancakes, I added, "Don't hold it against me." _  
_"Oh, we're only teasing, Saoirse," Fred said in a light, playful kind of condescending way. Cutting into a sausage, he prodded George in the ribs with an elbow, and asked, "It's all out of _love_ , isn't it, Georgie?"

Slightly red in the cheeks, George nodded through a mouthful of omelette.

After some more eating, Fred asked, "So, is your grandad still coming to the first task?"  
Dabbing my mouth with a napkin, I nodded, and said, "As far as I know, why?"

"We need to talk to him," George said.

"About….?" I inquired.

They shared a smirk that only they could understand the meaning of, and told me, "Business."

I rolled my eyes.

"Merlin…."

I didn't even want to know what kind of _business_ they had with my grandad.


	10. nine - the princess at the tournament

**Hello all! I know I've been gone from quite a while, and judging by my history on the site, some of you probably thought this fic was over. Well, it isn't, not just yet anyway. Life tends to get in the way, especially for me. But here I am, back with another chapter, another huge thanks to all my pals in the fanfiction world, and another plea for reviews, which are really, truly my lifeblood here on . And that's all I have to say today.**

 **So, yeah, thanks. Enjoy. :-)**

* * *

"There's my girl!"

Before I knew it, I was enveloped in a suffocating hug with my grandad. I was breathing in the fine silk of his suit and the tobacco that clung to it. For an old man, he had an impressively tough grip, one that I could not wriggle out of.

"Hi, Grandad," I replied, though my voice was muffled into his chest. Twisting my head around so that I could get a breath and be heard, I said, "I think you can let go of me now."

"Ah, yes, I do forget you're a little lady now and too embarrassed to give your old grandad a nice hug," he teased upon releasing me. He made a gesture as if he were about to pet an invisible dog, and said, "But Princess Maeve here… _.Princess Maeve?!_ "

"We are coming with her, sir!" hollered a tiny, squeaky voice. "She is very strong!"

"Merlin….," I groaned, upon seeing the sight.

Two of Grandad's house-elves, Lolly and Hookey, each had a death grip on a leash that was attached to either of Princess Maeve's outer necks. Princess Maeve, being the grand, slobbering, enormous beast that she was, was straining against their control, whining, and trying to get to Grandad.

"Grandad, did you really need to bring Maeve….?" I questioned, embarrassed.

I could only imagine the teasing I'd endure after everyone saw my grandad in a violet velvet suit, smoking a unicorn horn pipe, with two house elves and a three-headed dog in tow, just to come to Hogwarts to see the first task of the tournament. Any hopes of convincing my pals that my family was normal - rich, but normal - would be completely out the window. Filch called for me to go and greet my "esteemed grandfather," and he did so in front of the whole school, which was already embarrassing enough.

"Yes, darling, you know she whines awfully when we're apart," Grandad said, stroking one of her six ears lovingly. "Your grandmother hates how she slobbers all over the house too, y'know, so I thought I'd give her a break…."

Some other students passed us, as they'd finished their lunch and were heading towards the Quidditch pitch, where the first task - battling dragons - would take place in less than an hour. They were Slytherins, wearing those "POTTER STINKS," badges, and holding banners that said, "SUPPORT DIGGORY, THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION," which raised questions in my grandad's mind.

"What're those buttons and banners all about?" he asked.

I was hoping that I could melt into the floor and away from their gazes, which were sure as hell judging the sight of a three-headed dog and the rich and famous Patrick McAuley.

"They're mad that Harry Potter got in when he's underage," I said quickly.

Grandad laughed, as he found something amusing. "Jealousy, I say! The boy's something special, Saoirse - defeating You-Know-Who and getting around the Tournament's age limit magic? Amazing! I've place a dozen bets on him so far - with his luck, he'll be a sure fire winner. You could take a page from his book, darling, should've figured out whatever he did so you could've been in the Tournament too."

"He didn't put his name in," I said. After a skeptical glance, I added, "Everyone's asked him a thousand times; says he didn't do it."

"What a shame, not to share that genius," Grandad said, with a shake of the head and a click of the tongue. "Don't blame him, though, I didn't build an empire sharing my secrets."

"Patrick, what a pleasure to have you as a guest to the Tournament," greeted Professor Dumbledore, as he floated towards us in his usual serene manner. "My, is that a unicorn horn pipe? I thought they banned unicorn hunting centuries ago….unless you have not changed with age, I would not have expected you to partake in such activities."

"Oh, Dumbledore, this is an original piece from the medieval era," explained Grandad, while waving his pipe in such a way that it made perfect smoke circles in the air. "Belonged to one of Morgan le Fay's lover. I bought it over the summer from a chap up in Glasgow. Paid quite the stack of galleons for it, but it's worth it - makes the tobacco ten times sweeter."

"I'll have to take your word on that," Dumbledore nodded politely. "I never was much of a smoker. My lungs were always too sensitive for that….but, I suppose I'll have to ask you to put that out anyhow, as I cannot permit smoking on the Hogwarts grounds, especially as we go to watch the Tournament, which we should be going to now."

"Splendid!" Grandad exclaimed. "Come, now, Hookey, Lolly….keep a tight lead on Maeve there, we don't need her pummeling students….take care of this as well…."  
"Yes, sir!" the two elves pledged in unison, as we began to follow Professor Dumbledore outside.

Grandad extinguished his pipe with the end of his wand, tossing it over his shoulder as if it were a wad of rubbish rather than a priceless relic, as he'd just explained that it was. Hookey scrambled to catch it and hang onto the enormous dog too. She caught it by the grace of Merlin, and after Lolly snapped her fingers, causing it to disappear into thin air, presumably transported back to a safe place on Grandad's desk back in Dublin.

Coming outside, and being hit by a suddenly cold breeze, it all hit me. The Tournament was actually happening. Fleur, Harry, Cedric and Krum were all going to fight dragons and I was going to have to watch. They could die. Die. I could be going to watch one of my childhood friends die, or one of my house mates die, or one of my best friend's crushes die, or an international Quidditch extraordinaire die right before my eyes. What the hell would I do if I watched any of them get pummeled to death by a dragon, especially Fleur?

However, as we approached the Quidditch pitch, I was quickly distracted from my thoughts of Fleur being scorched to death as two familiar redheads dashed towards us - Fred and George.

"Mr. McAuley!" they called.

"Do you mind if we steal one minute of your incredibly valuable time before the Tournament?" asked Fred.

With an amused expression, Grandad replied, "Why, of course! Lovely to see you two boys again, Frank and Geoff."

"It's Fred and George," I half-coughed, nudging him in the ribs.

"Yes, sir, I'm Fred," said Fred.

"And I'm George," said George.

"Would you care to see a few of our inventions?" inquired Fred.

I shook my head and covered my eyes with my hand. I knew what they were doing - they were going to pump Grandad for investment money. It could go one of two ways: Grandad loved it and chucked a few thousand galleons at them, or he thought they were complete imbeciles and laughed in their faces. Either way, it was going to be embarrassing for me, because Grandad would think my friends are idiots or he'd think they were brilliant and egg me on to be more "tenacious" or whatever like them.

With a glimmer of interest in his eye, Grandad replied, "Why not? I have a spare minute."

Fred and George shared a mischievous grin, as I had seen them do countless times. In a flash, Fred produced a small trunk from behind his back, and opened it, revealing a plethora of their gag products. George plucked out what looked like a wand, handing it to my Grandad, who examined it with what appeared to be the utmost interest.

"Give it a wave, sir," Fred instructed.

"Hm," Grandad mused.

He rolled it between his fingers, and then gave it a wave, causing it to turn into a large rubber chicken. There was a moment of silence as Grandad stared at it, and Fred and George stared at him in extreme anticipation, as did I. And then it happened - Grandad burst out in laughter.

"Brilliant, boys, brilliant!" Grandad chuckled. "Never have I seen one so convincing, the ones they made when I was a boy were complete rubbish, nothing like this….I'd pay a galleon for this, really. What else have you two got up your sleeves?"

Fred and George were beaming now, and George shot me a low thumbs up. I smiled back, happy that they were probably going to get the money they constantly reminded me that they needed. Then, I stuffed my hands in my pockets, figuring I wasn't really needed for this little business meeting, and hopped off to join Nate, who was heading towards the Quidditch pitch by himself.

"Hey, Nate," I greeted, catching my breath as I caught up with him.

"Hello, Saoirse McAuley," he greeted, adjusting his thick glasses. He glanced towards the pitch with a distant kind of grin, and then informed me, "By my calculations, the odds are in Viktor Krum's favor today."

"What?" I asked.

"Well, I've been doing calculations on each champions' odds of winning," he explained. "Based on all factors pooled together, it's most plausible that Viktor Krum will be in first for this task."

"Alright," I nodded. I didn't want to question how he did this, because I knew that would be asking for a long explanation I wouldn't understand anyway.

"Also," Nathan piped up after a few paces taken in silence. "What are Fred and George Weasley doing with your grandfather?"

"Oh," I replied. "They're after him for an investment, I reckon. Showing off their joke products."

"Well, they really should hurry up, shouldn't they?" Nate asked. "It'd be awful if they missed the last Triwizard Tournament."

I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think this is going to be the last Triwizard Tournament?"

Nathan let me enter the pitch first, and leaned in over my shoulder to tell me, "Because, Saoirse McAuley, odds are that at least one person is going to die in this Tournament."

* * *

"No, The Weird Sisters are shit. Muggles do music best. Wizarding music is just a shitty copy of Muggle music," I argued casually, yet definitively, as I sipped my glass of firewhiskey.

Yet another party had taken over the Gryffindor common room. Again, I was in the corner with Angus, drunk. Again, the party was for Harry, but this time it was celebrating his defeat of the dragon. He'd been really brilliant, after all, I had to admit it. The point of the task was to get a golden egg away from a dragon, and he'd did this fantastic broom trick to hypnotize the beast. It really was amazing. Everyone else survived, too - Fleur, with only a burned skirt, Cedric, with only minor facial burns, and Krum, nearly unscathed. They were good too, but Harry was so impressive, as he was only a fourth year. I didn't even know if he was still enjoying the party, or if he'd retreated after trying to open the egg, which emitted the most awful sound I'd ever heard, but I was going to take as long as necessary to finish my firewhiskey.

"No," Angus said, shaking his poor, drunk head. "The Weird Sisters are _good_."

"Whatever you say," I laughed with a shake of the head. I knew where fighting with Drunk Angus got me - absolutely nowhere.

Angus' head fell back into the cushiony chair he occupied, and his eyes rolled back, so that he was looking at the hand-drawn banner hung over his head. Dead Thomas, another fourth year, had drawn some banners to decorate, as he was a very good artist. The one above Angus depicted Cedric running around on the Quidditch pitch with his head on fire, and apparently, Angus just discovered that this was very hilarious, as he suddenly couldn't contain his laughter.

"What's wrong with him?" inquired Lee, as he took the seat next to me on the loveseat.

"Drunk," I sighed with a slight roll of the eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, Lee asked, "He always gets drunk at parties, doesn't he?"

"Well….," I began, searching my mind for a time when he hadn't gotten drunk at a party. "Yeah. He doesn't handle it well."

"But you do, you bloody mick," Lee teased with a lighthearted wink.

"Fuck off," I chuckled, while putting the last of another bottle of firewhiskey down the hatch. "I'm Irish, it's in the genes."

"The mick genes," Lee joked under his breath.

"Shut up!" I laughed, giving him a good sock in the shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" Lee exclaimed, clutching the spot where my fist collided with his shoulder in pain. "Merlin, you hit _hard_."

"Thanks," I said. Self satisfied, I leaned back in my seat, crossing my legs over the knees. "I've had a lot of practice, y'know, us micks, we just fight when we're not putting away the firewhiskey."

"You know what though? I think your grandad's still pretty awesome," Lee commented.

I rolled my eyes. "What, because he travels with a beast in tow?"

"Well, yeah," Lee grinned. "But he just has this presence, y'know? He's such a badass."

"Okay," I sighed, agreeing just for the sake of agreeing.

Lee let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back into the loveseat beside me. He swigged his own firewhiskey. He was drunk, maybe only mildly, judging from the glaze that was starting to develop over his eyes. Angus, on the other hand, had just flat out fallen asleep, even through the loud music.

"You think your grandad really liked Fred and George's stuff they showed him?" Lee inquired after a pause.

Shrugging, I replied, "I dunno, he seemed to….they were just milking him for investment money, though, weren't they?"

"Yeah," Lee shrugged in response. "But they, well, George, wants your grandad to like them too."

"Why?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "For more money….?"

"No," Lee said, shaking his head and laughing as if I was stupid. "Because George _fancies_ you, you beautiful Irish idiot."

"What?" I asked rather loudly, more so than I had intended.

" _George Weasley,_ " said Lee very slowly. "Fancies _you, Saoirse McAuley._ "

He jabbed his finger into my shoulder accidentally, as he was simply trying to point to me.

Though I didn't completely believe that statement, I asked, "Alright, if that's true, why does it matter if my grandad likes him though?"

"Because you're like a bloody princess!" Lee exclaimed. "You're from one of the most well-known families, you're rich, you're grandad's one of the most powerful wizards around….if he disapproves, George has got no chance. And he's always been under the impression that your grandad thinks he and Fred are kind of….slow, after the whole manticore incident."

"Are you drunk?" I asked, as this whole situation sounded very not-real to me.

"No," Lee said sharply. "I am only about 1/16 drunk, perfectly capable of telling you the truth of reality, thanks."

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. I didn't really believe him. I was no princess, and I was pretty sure George didn't fancy me. No one had fancied me since Adrian, and he'd been the only one. I wasn't exactly a looker, nor did I have an engaging sort of personality. I was just, well….me. And I wasn't the sort of girl that boys fancies.


	11. ten - purely platonic

**Hello everyone! I have a couple of days off from school & work for one reason or another, so I've been plugging away with my fics as well as my other writings. So, I'm back with another chapter, and might be posting another sooner rather than later. As always, I want to thank all of you who've supported me, not only with this fic, but with everything else I've posted on here. **

**Reviews really mean the world to me. Thank you to all who've left one, and please don't be afraid to leave one in the future, they make a fanfiction writer's world go 'round.**

 **Without further ado, here's the next chapter. Enjoy! :-)**

* * *

A couple of days later, Professor Flitwick was preparing us for a brief exam on the Aguamenti charm, the one that caused water to come from the ends of our wands. We were to spend the whole class practicing with partners, trying to aim our water into wine classes that Professor Flitwick had lined up on the windowsill. I was paired up with Esther. Holly had ditched me for Cedric Diggory, who she'd only fallen harder for since the beginning of the tournament. Now he was a hero for overcoming the first task (even though three other people had done the same thing), so therefore Holly was even less able to leave him alone.

"This is stupid," Esther remarked. She pulled her wand back, ending the faucet effect. "I know how to do the damn charm, why do I have to spend the entire class proving it?"

"Because Flitwick said so," I answered blandly.

"I just want to get this stupid quiz over with," Esther grumbled. "Then we learn how to turn water into wine, which would actually be useful."

I laughed. I didn't disagree with her there.

After Charms, came Care of Magical Creatures, the only class I had with Holly now. Well, I technically had almost all my classes with her, but since she was so obsessed with Cedric nowadays. Tugging my winter cloak on, I hurried up to catch up with her on our way out of the castle.

"Hi, Holls," I greeted whilst catching my breath.

"Hi, Saoirse," she greeted with half a smile. "I feel like we haven't talked in forever."  
"Same," I nodded. "But that's only because you've been following Cedric Diggory around like a puppy."

Cheeks flushing, Holly dismissed, "I do not."

"Well, you do," I stated. Shrugging, I then added, "I'm not saying you're doing anything wrong, I'm just saying. I don't know how these relationship things work."

"But you dated Adrian Pucey last year," Holly argued lightly, gripping me for support as we started downhill.

I rolled my eyes. "But that doesn't count. That was by luck, by chance, not because I have any knowledge about dating or whatever."

"True," Holly agreed. I thought she'd at least disagree with me to sound nice, but apparently not. "Well, I mean, Cedric and I aren't dating….I do fancy him….so I have to kind of show him that I fancy him if I want to have a chance, don't I? Like, just spending time with him, being nice, helping him however I can with the tournament….simple stuff like that. I was never trying to follow him like a puppy."

I was listening to her, but I was also thinking about what Lee said the other night about George fancying me. If Holly was right about how people show other people they fancy them, then Lee was wrong, because George still teased the hell out of me for being a little rich girl.

We came upon Professor Hagrid's hut in no time, where he stood beaming before the class. The demonic Skrewts were contained in a pen that was becoming more and more damaged by the second.

"I figured we'd try ter taken them fer a little walk, eh?" suggest Hagrid as everyone arrived. "They've got a lotta pent up energy, as yeh can probably see….there's a bunch er leashes in that box o'er, so grab one and put it 'round one er the Skrewts."

I grumbled as everyone else backed away. Per usual, I was the only one brave enough to step forward and grab one of the leashes. After quite the struggle, I managed to get it around the middle of one of the Skrewts, but only after adding to the burn collection that had started on my hands. I dragged the Skrewt around the pen, attempting to walk it, as Professor Hagrid - the only other person who dared to get near the demonic creatures - caught up to me.

"Thanks fer tryin' with 'em, Saoirse," Hagrid told me earnestly with a smile. "They look a lot scarier than they are….but yeh probably see how amazin' they are now, don't yeh?"

"Er….," I muttered awkwardly, not wanting to offend him.

"Of course yeh do," Hagrid assured himself. "They're growin' fast though, I've noticed. Getting ready ter breed, I'd reckon. They're all killin' each other and the males keep antagonizin' the females. It's been a right challenge tryin' ter keep 'em all from killin' each other."

Somehow, I wished that they would just kill each other.

* * *

November rolled into December, week into weekend, and I soon found myself at Hogsmeade. It was the weekend before Esther's birthday, her seventeenth at that. She really couldn't be more ecstatic to finally become an adult, even if she was too cool to show that. Instead, we were celebrating at the Three Broomsticks, sipping butterbeers casually by the fire and snacking on potato skins. Esther's mum had sent her money to have a little birthday celebration, so this was how we were spending it.

It wasn't just Esther and I, though. Grace Zabini had joined us, which I was fine with. I'd say we were friends, mostly because of Esther, but friends nonetheless even if I believed Grace thought I was a little bit of a nut sometimes.

"So, do you have a date to the Yule Ball yet?" Grace asked, eyeing me as she sipped her butterbeer.

I rolled my eyes. The last thing I wanted to talk about was the Yule Ball. Apparently, it was a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, to have this whole grand ball thing on Christmas Eve, where everyone had to dress fancy and bring dates and waltz around for a couple of hours. I couldn't say I was excited - I had endured more fancy, high society events in my life than I ever cared to. Every year my grandad held his own Christmas ball which I was forced to attend, and hated. The Yule Ball at Hogwarts was only proving to be more annoying - because no one would shut up about it - and it hadn't even happened yet.

"No," I grumbled. Then, I added honestly, "I really don't even want to go. It's just going to be everyone dressed up and acting fake for an evening, for formality's sake. It's not going to be as fun as some people think it is."

One of those people was Holly. She'd been a mess of nerves and excitement since the whole thing was revealed, and spent her free time having Fleur and the other French girls show her how to do elegant, fashionable hairstyles that would be appropriate for the event. She wouldn't shut up about it, and she made it well known that she was hoping Cedric would be the one to ask her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that almost everyone knew he had already asked Cho Chang. Hell, Holly probably already knew, but was too deep in denial to admit it to herself.

"True that," Esther said. She held her butterbeer bottle up for a cheer, which we all did, and proceeded to take another swig. "We should ditch. Do an anti-Yule Ball."

"Yeah, that sounds great," Grace began. "But it's such a big thing, it'd be awful to miss it. Yes, it'll probably be awful to go, but imagine telling your grandkids that you went to the first Yule Ball in two hundred years?"

"Like I'll ever have grandkids," I muttered in a self-deprecating manner. "I'm going to be single forever."

"Merlin, will you stop that?" Esther demanded, tired of hearing it from me. "You're perfectly good looking and much more normal than most of the nutters running around here. You're perfectly dateable, Saoirse, so please, for the love of Merlin, stop saying you aren't."

"Besides, doesn't one of the Weasleys fancy you?" Grace asked casually.

Raising an eyebrow, I questioned, "How'd you hear about that?"

With a shrug, Grace replied, "Lee Jordan told me something about it."

"Lee?" I repeated. Knowing his feelings towards those in Slytherin, I was shocked the two had ever talked in their lives. "When the hell did you start talking to Lee?"

Slyly, Grace shrugged again. "I dunno, we've been talking."

"He asked her to the Yule Ball," Esther informed me.

"What'd you say?" I asked, now on the edge of my seat.

"I said maybe," Grace said. "I have to weigh all of my options, y'know."

With that, Esther and I laughed. Grace, however, said, "Well, if it's true that someone fancies you, then you're not a complete hopeless trainwreck."

"Thanks a lot, Grace."

* * *

Grace and Esther had been sucked into a group of Slytherins wanting to celebrate with her. As I was not friendly with everyone in the group (like Warrington, who hated me for dating Adrian, and then hated me more for breaking up with Adrian), so I decided to let them celebrate and go my own way.

I quickly found Holly on the other side of the Three Broomsticks, but as she was amongst a group of Hufflepuffs who all seemed to be hero-worshipping a reluctant Diggory, I moved on. Thankfully, I found Fleur outside, meandering down the path from the castle with a flustered look.

"What's the matter with you?" I inquired to her in French, as I bounded over to greet her.

"I cannot believe that all of you Hogwarts students walk down here all of the time, for fun," Fleur grunted, speaking French as well. I don't think we really ever spoke English with each other. "There should be a train, or carriage, at least! That path is absolutely awful."

"It's not that bad," I shrugged. "What brings you down to Hogsmeade, though?"

"Oh, I have wanted to come down since we got here, after you told me about all of the….shenanigans that go on down here, but Madame Maxime really likes to have me practicing all kinds of spells all of the time," Fleur explained. "And then, oh - there's your friend, Holly. She's kind of a sad little thing, isn't she?"

I laughed, shrugged, and said, "She's too in love with Diggory. It's kind of consuming her, I think, and I think she thinks that if she's more like you, y'know, that it'll help her chances in getting him to reciprocate her feelings."

Clicking her tongue and shaking her head, Fleur responded, "Well, she shouldn't. At least, if she wants someone to fall in love with her. If she's me, all her dates will be drooling all over themselves and not listening to a word of the conversation."

As Fleur adjusted her hands inside of her fluffy hand muff in a rather flustered manner, I suggested, "Well, do you want a little tour of Hogsmeade, since you came all the way down here?"

"Of course."

Fleur and I had barely started off our on unofficial Hogsmeade tour, when Nate, in the most ridiculous and puffy crimson earmuffs with a mismatched green and orange scarf, leapt before us. He nearly scared Fleur shitless, but I was used to this kind of behavior from the oddball.

"Saoirse McAuley," Nate huffed. He wasn't the fittest bloke, after all. I think he's asthmatic.

Either way, as he was trying to get air back into him, I grabbed his shoulders and asked, "Are you alright?"

"He looks like death!" Fleur remarked in French, stepping back.

"I am positively delightful," Nate said, shrugging from my grip so that he could stand up straight in front of me. He cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, adjusted his glasses, and then, with bravado, asked me, "Saoirse Lisette McAuley, would you do me, Nathan Lionel Parker, the utmost honor of attending the Yule Ball with me? In a purely platonic way, of course…."

"Sure, Nate," I nodded with a bemused smile.

I didn't hesitate because A) No one else had asked me B) I wasn't expecting anyone else to ask me and C) because if I didn't go with Nate, who would?

"Did you really just say yes to him?" Fleur whispered to me in disbelief.

Of course, she had (wrongly) assumed that Nate could not understand her.

"I do understand French, Miss Delacour," Nate said, dusting his shoulders off. "And it's rude to make judgements purely based on appearances."

He paused. Fleur stared at him like he was some kind of fantastical beast. I laughed. Nate turned to me.

"And as for you, Saoirse McAuley, thank you and I shall see you later."


	12. eleven - 12-22-77

**As expected, I'm back with another chapter sooner than usual. I do hope things start getting more interesting soon enough for you all.**

 **A huge blanket thank you to everyone who's supported me as well. And the obligatory reminder to review, as they keep me writing.**

 **Thanks! Enjoy :-)**

* * *

"Fleur, what the bloody hell is in that box?" I inquired, with a raised eyebrow.

Fleur was approaching me with an enormous box, one so big she could barely carry it after all. I could hardly see her pretty little blonde head over the top of glimmering snow-colored wrapping paper and big emerald and crimson plaid ribbon that adorned it.

"It's," Fleur breathed heavily, heaving the box onto the table before me. "Your dress. For the Yule Ball."

"Then why do you have it?" I asked. I stood, for a better look at the disgustingly over-decorated box, which could've easily held a small child.

"Because your grandfather asked me to choose one for you, considering your, er….unique sense of style," Fleur explained delicately. There was a definite glare towards my old Docs, which were scuffed and dirty and on my feet. "So I ordered this one for you from Paris, and they sent it to me."

I rolled my eyes. How very Patrick McAuley it was of my grandad to go behind my back to dress me like a lady, and how very Fleur Delacour it was of her to oblige. I could only imagine the frilly horrors that lie inside the box.

"Well, open it up," I commanded in a sigh.

With way too much pleasure, Fleur ripped the box open. I let her push past the excessive layers of tissue paper, which exposed the dress - a fancy crimson number, which Fleur lifted up. It was the kind of dress that hung off the shoulders, with elegantly beaded straps that reminded me of delicate fairy wings, being airy and strangely lovely. The straps connected to a simple sweetheart neckline. It was the kind of dress that was ruched, and tighter until it hit the middle, where it fell out into the kind of skirt that was really meant to twirl in.

"What do you think?" Fleur asked excitedly, gripping onto my shoulder after she'd folded it back into the box.

"I actually like it," I admitted.

"What a relief!" Fleur sighed, clutching her chest. "I thought you were going to kill me for even trying to get you to wear a dress….now, that Nathan boy, he's going to have to wear something to match you….should I look for something for him as well? I don't think he's got very much fashion sense, after all…."

"I think he can dress himself, Fleur," I said with a kind of smile. "Thanks, though."

"Oh, no problem," she replied. "You can get ready with me, in the Beauxbatons carriage, alright? I want you looking great, and you don't really know how to do that on your own….anyway, I've got to go, I've got to go talk to Roger Davies about what color robes he'll be wearing so that we can coordinate. I'll hang onto this for safekeeping, okay?"

Before I could agree or disagree, Fleur had bounded off, my giant dress box in tow.

"What did Coco Chanel want with you?" Esther inquired, approaching me from the Slytherin table. She'd taken to calling Fleur Coco Chanel, for one reason or another. "And what was in that bloody box?"

"My Yule Ball dress," I said simply. "Grandad put Fleur in charge of it."

Esther rolled her eyes. "Of course he did."

Piling my books up and preparing to leave, I asked, "Well, what are you going to wear to the thing?"

Shrugging, Esther said, "I was thinking of getting a big wooly coat like Professor Hagrid and making a nice hat out of a rubbish bin."

I laughed. How very Esther.

She shrugged once more, and said, "But, really, I probably won't even go."

"What?" I said, a bit flabbergasted. It wasn't like I was psyched to go, but it was something you couldn't really miss. "Why?"

"Who am I supposed to go with?" Esther asked me. She leaned forward, and in a lower voice, asked, "It's not like I can bring Pauline or anything."

Pauline was Esther's Muggle girlfriend who lived back in London.

I looked at her, trying to search for a suggestion, but came up with none.

"Exactly," Esther nodded.

She pushed her glasses back up on her nose and drew a long breath. I knew that she would love to bring Pauline, but it was pretty impossible. I felt bad.

"I would offer you Nate, but he's already asked me," I said lowly.

Esther grumbled and rolled her eyes. Then, rather sarcastically, she added, "You two will make a lovely couple. What're the children going to be named?"

"Flavius and Esther the second," I joked dryly. "No but….you could take Angus, I can't imagine he'd want to be seen with Malcolm at the thing."

"True," Esther agreed. "He's stuck deeper in the closet than Aslan."

At that comment, I couldn't help but to laugh.

"But really I don't think I could stand to have to spend that much time with Matlock, Saoirse," Ester said seriously. "Thanks for offering your friends to me, though. I do appreciate it."

"Anytime, Est," I winked, as headed towards the door of the Great Hall. Our post-supper study hour was up, so that meant it was time to turn in to our respective common rooms.

She started off, then turned around to yell at me, "Don't forget your birthday this year!"

I laughed again. I did indeed forget my birthday last year, until Esther brought me a cake in Herbology, which she promptly smashed in my face. I hoped she didn't have something similar (or worse) planned.

We bid our final goodnights, and I headed up towards Gryffindor tower, where I found my old pal and beloved pet, Sid, meowing and clawing to get into the common room.

"Hi, baby," I cooed in greeting.

Tucking my books under one arm, I picked Sid up with the other. He was fatter than I recalled, or perhaps he seemed fatter because I hadn't picked him up in a bit.

I came into the common room, discarding my books and pulling Sid tighter to my chest, kissing his soft head. I glanced around, looking for someone to sit with. Fred and George were talking to Ron, Harry and Hermione, and there was a collapsed table of cards before them. In front of the fire sat Angelina and Angus, who appeared to be studying frantically, whispering up a storm and comparing notes.

"What're you two up to?" I inquired, taking the seat beside Angelina whilst cuddling with Sid, who had begun to purr contently.

"Charms," Angelina said quickly.

"Yup," Angus corroborated.

"Alright," I said. I narrowed my eyes, thinking for a moment, and then warned, "You two better not be planning any shit for my birthday."

"We're not!" Angelina responded haughtily. "You really think we'd plan you birthday surprises when we know that you absolutely hate them?"

"True," I sighed.

I sunk back into the sofa, stroking Sid's back. I wasn't sure if I really believed them, but for now, I wasn't going to be bothered with it.

"Oi! Angelina!"

We all whipped around. It was Fred, hollering at her from across the common room, and effectively gaining everyone's attention, not just hers.

"What?" Angelina called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina looked Fred up and down, in an appraising sort of way. I knew just as well as anyone else that this was for show - she wasn't going to say no considering all the time they'd spent snogging lately.

"All right, then," Angelina nodded.

Fred nodded and winked, and Angelina turned back to us. She crossed her arms, and there was just the slightest touch of a grin on her face.

"There you go, Ange," I teased, prodding her in the ribs.

"Well, that wasn't the most romantic or anything, but I'll take it," she replied.

"At least you two have dates," Angus grumbled.

I knew he wanted to take Malcolm, but wouldn't. Angelina probably just thought he was too stubborn to ask a girl out.

"Who are you going with?" Angelina asked, turning to me.

"Nate," I told her.

I waited only a few seconds, and out burst the laughter.

"Don't laugh!" I said, smacking her on the arm. "We're just going as friends, Angelina. Besides, if I wasn't going with him, who was?"

"You can't go out with someone out of pity," she told me lowly.

"It's not out of pity!" I persisted. "It's 'cause we're friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S."

"Whatever you say, McAuley," Angus concluded cheekily.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, c'mon. Nate said himself that he wants to go as friends, and I am positive he doesn't think of me in any other way. He's a genius, but romantically and sexually speaking, he's way behind."

"True," Angelina agreed, much to my relief. "Fred and I walked past him holding hands one day, and I think he practically vomited."

Angus and I laughed. I could picture Nate in that situation. He was comfortable to ask for tongue print samples, but yet romantic human affection, or any kind of human affection involving any kind of bodily contact, for that matter, freaked him out for some reason. That was Nate - the asexual, biracial, Welsh nerd with a brain to rival Dumbledore's.

Interrupting the laughter, Sid let out a huge cat snore from where he was cuddled against my chest. Angus looked disgusted at my beloved cat.

"Don't look at him like that," I urged, holding Sid protectively.

"I just don't get how you could love that thing like you do," Angus said, seeing how I was looking at him. "He hardly looks like a cat."

"I like things a little ugly," I said. I gave him a cheeky grin as he'd given me earlier, and kissed the tuft of fur atop Sid's head.

"Explains the boots," Angelina muttered just below her breath.

"Oh, don't even, I get enough of that from Fleur," I groaned. Standing, I announced, "I'm going to bed."

I got a couple of goodnights from Angelina and Angus, and headed towards the stairs towards the girls' dormitories. I grabbed my things on the way, causing Sid to wake with a dissatisfied meow. Just as I was about to turn in for the night, I was approached.

"Hey, Saoirse," called George, as he came over. He leaned against the wall with one arm, and a half-grin.

"Hi," I replied.

"I'm not trying to steal Fred's thunder tonight or anything, but since you're here I figured I'd ask if you wanted to go to the ball with me," George told me.

"Oh," I said, faltering a bit. "Sorry, but I'm already going with Nathan Parker. He asked me this weekend."

There was a long pause. A long, uncomfortable pause.

"Oh," George said after an eternity and a half.

"Yeah," I muttered, not knowing quite what else to say. "Er….sorry."

"It's….fine," George said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "...Goodnight."

With that, and with much awkwardness, George turned to go sit with Fred, Ron, Harry and Hermione once again.

"I'm really sorry," I added awkwardly. I wished I could stick my foot in my mouth. "It's just that…."

"It's fine, Saoirse, really," George assured me. He was strangely half-hearted in his response.

I didn't say anything else. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

The last thing that I heard before heading up the stairs was Ron Weasley laughing hysterically.

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAOIRSE!"

Hands were shaking me, voices were screaming at me, and all I wanted to do was go the hell back to sleep.

"Get off of me," I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head with one arm, and swatting Angelina and Alicia off of me with the other. "Let me sleep! It's holiday."

"And it's your birthday," Alicia added gleefully. She ripped my pillow away, throwing it on the floor as Angelina did the same to all of my blankets.

"You're an adult!" Angelina beamed. "Let's get up and celebrate! You shouldn't be a stick in the mud, not today, at least."

"I hate you two," I grumbled with the faintest of smiles.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, got up, showered, got dressed, and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. A slew of owls had delivered presents to the place at the table where I usually sat, which gathered the attention of most of the other students in the Hall, much to my displeasure. I didn't want to be in the spotlight.

"Open this one first, Saoirse," Lee prodded.

He, Fred, George and Katie were all looming over a large, broom-shaped box that was wrapped elaborately in golden paper. Even the first years at the other end of the table were craning their necks to get a look.

"Yeah, it feels like a Firebolt," Fred said excitedly.

"Feels like?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, sorry, we were jiggling it around to try and hear what was inside," Katie apologized sheepishly.

I chuckled a bit, and took my seat. Everyone else did too, though they were nearly pissing themselves with anticipation. I opened the golden box first, to find the usual happy birthday note from Grandad and a tissue-paper wrapped, custom Firebolt below. I never was much into flying or Quidditch, but my Grandad hadn't given up hope that I'd make it on the national team.

With the Firebolt being passed around the table so everyone could have a look, I opened the next few boxes. There were plenty of sweets and cakes, new clothes straight from Paris (that I'd probably return as they weren't exactly my taste), new quills and ink, more books in an array of different languages, a new collar for Sid, a new cage for Polly, and, as was traditional, a watch. Except, my watch was state of the art - real leather, real gold, with diamond-accented hands. It told the moon phases and planetary phases and everything else astrological. I could only imagine how much it cost, but, I did have to admit I liked it, and I put it straight onto my wrist.

Of course, it was traditional for wizards to get watches, not witches, but my grandfather thought I should get one too. My grandad was many things, but never a sexist, I'll say that.

I tightened the watch and passed the sweets and treats around for sharing, and everyone was ecstatic. Besides, there was no way I could've possibly gotten through them myself. After that, I worked through the pile of cards and money all of Grandad's associates sent me, as well as a nice package from the Delacours with a big box of my favorite French chocolates and pastries. Even Carrie and Jake, Esther's parents, sent me a new pair of patent leather red Docs to replace my old ones. Instinctively, I knew Carrie picked them out. She'd always understood my sense of style.

With my new Docs on my feet, I hit Hogsmeade for birthday celebrations at the Three Broomsticks. I had been correct to think that Angus and Angelina had been planning something, as the pub was decked out for birthday celebrations by the time we got there around noon. Esther, Holly, Nate and Fleur joined us as well, and Fleur presented me with an elaborate, three-tiered, Gryffindor-colored cake with seventeen shamrock candles on top.

Needless to say, at the end of the day when it was once again time to turn in for bed, I was exhausted. I was the last one to come out of the shower, and by the time I did, Angelina and Alicia were already asleep in their beds. Yawning, I threw my pajamas on, and shoved Sid out of the way to make room for myself in bed.

Then my trunk began to rattle. Really rattle, like there was someone in there trying to get out.

Out in instinct, I opened up my trunk, which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Carefully, I lifted the lid to see that the box I buried in my trunk months ago, the one with the old McAuley family crest on it had mysteriously been moved to the top. The lock, the lock none of us could open, had been broken, seemingly by itself.

Sid was sitting up now, looking at the broken box with a kind of indifferent curiosity, tail swishing.

My heart was pounding. I remembered Grandad warning me never to trust anything that did things on its own when you couldn't see its brain. I didn't see the box's brain, but it moved itself and it opened itself. I knew I shouldn't mess with it….but I couldn't resist.

With heaving breaths, I lifted it out of the trunk. The box seemed to have its own heartbeat, seemed to be generating its own warmth, like it was alive….I lifted the broken top off.

Inside, right on top, there was an old leather necklace. The choker kind, with the o-ring, like the punks used to wear back in the day. I held it. I held it tight. It was warm, weirdly so. I turned it over. There was a metal plate on the back, engraved with initials and a date, "J.E.G. + A.C.M. 12/21/77."

That was my birthday. No, I didn't have a clue who JEG or ACM was, but I knew the date. That date was today, seventeen years ago, the day I was born.

I felt bizarre. I felt my heart pounding in my throat. I felt the warmth of the leather choker in my hands, and I shoved it back into the box, which I shoved back into my trunk, which I slammed shut and locked.

I fell into bed, realizing I should've listened to my Grandad - I should've never trusted anything that had a mind of its own if I couldn't see its brain.


	13. twelve - the yule ball

**Hello again! To all of you in the US like myself, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving! To the rest of you everyone else in the universe, I hope you had an overall happy day. I had a great time with my family today and now I'm home and posting another chapter.**

 **I'm glad that some of you seem to be enjoying this fic (as I can see by the favs/follows going up and such) and I want to thank you as always for that. A special thank you to those who decide to leave reviews with each chapter I post. You guys are really the best! If you haven't dropped a review off, don't be afraid to. I really love hearing from you. Like really. Really.**

 **Alright, that's that. Here's the next chapter.**

* * *

"I wish we'd only come here for the ball," Fleur informed me dreamily, as her deft fingers worked through my tangled hair. "That would've be better than this whole tournament thing."

"But you're a champion," I mused.

"Yes, but it's so much pressure," Fleur sighed. "I want to win and get the money, but facing a dragon was bad enough….I can only imagine it'll get worse from here, right?"

"And if a dragon burns your face off, what'll you have left?" teased Fleur's friend, Penelope, as she started on the last touch of my makeup - the lipstick.

"You're hilarious," Fleur responded, unamused, as I laughed.

"What do you think?" Penelope inquired, handing me a silver engraved hand mirror.

I stared at the reflection. The girl I saw barely looked like the girl I saw in the mirror on a daily basis. This girl's skin was even, her green eyes sexily accented by smoky makeup, and her lips full, plump and cherry-red. Her hair was no longer unkempt and "fashionably messy," but rather it was silky, tied in an intricate, partially braided chignon at the back of her neck, with loose, tender curls falling on either side of her face.

She was beautiful. She was me.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, turning my head for another angle to view. I couldn't believe Fleur and Penelope made me look like this.

The two French girls laughed at my surprise, telling me that I was welcome as they patted me on the shoulders. Gabrielle, who was too young to go to the ball, came bouncing across the interior of the Beauxbatons carriage (which on the inside looked like the most beautiful French chateau) to look at me. Once she saw, she looked to Fleur with big, puppy eyes.

"Why can't you make me look like that?" Gabrielle begged.

"Because you're eleven, you geek," Fleur said dismissively, shoving Gabrielle away. "You're not even old enough to wear makeup yet."

"Yes I am!" Gabrielle grumbled, stomping a foot. "I survived being with the giant squid in the lake, I should be able to wear makeup."

Fleur rolled her eyes. "That's because Harry Potter pulled you out. Now go away, please? We're trying to get ready."

Seeing she wasn't going to win this battle, Gabrielle took up a nearby chair and crossed her arms, settling into pout mode.

"My turn!" Fleur squealed gleefully. Playfully, she said to Penelope and I, "Make me goregeous, girls."

* * *

Nearly two hours later, I and the rest of the girls from Beauxbatons were ready. Wrapped in layers of shawls and fur, we linked arms and made our way up the snowy path towards the castle. Even I was feeling the pre-ball glee now, as it was insanely infectious. I was giggling with the rest of them, and indulging their giddy suggestions in French.

I couldn't believe it, but I was excited.

Coming into the castle, the doors magically opened for us, revealing the entry hall, which was completely decked out, winter wonderland style. Besides the endless decorations, the hall was packed with giddy students meeting up and going inside with one another.

Fleur quickly scurried off to Roger Davies, her date, whilst Penelope seemed to vanish with her date, a Beauxbatons boy called Guy. I figured I should follow in fashion and find Nate, which proved very easily to do, as he stood out in a crisp, strangely fashionable lime green suit. He'd slicked his afro back into something like a jerry curl, and he'd lost his dorky glasses.

"Nate!" I called, as I approached. I couldn't help but to laugh as I said, "You look fantastic, mate!"

"Why are you laughing at me, then?" he inquired.

"Because, strangely enough, you look kind of like Ru Paul, out of drag, of course," I informed him whilst chuckling and looking him up and down.

"Who?" Nate asked, tilting his head with confusion. "Out of what?"

"Nevermind," I brushed off with a shake of the head. "Let's head in, shall we?"

"We shall," he said regally, offering me an arm, which I promptly took. "And may I tell you that you look positively beautiful this evening?"

As he escorted me into the Great Hall, which I had never seen looking more magnificent in my life, I said, "You've become quite the gentlemen, Nathan."

"Why of course, Saoirse McAuley," he responded, humoring me. "I wouldn't want to disappoint a classy lady such as yourself."  
"Classy?" I laughed. "I'm far from."

He laughed as well, and we found seats at an empty table. The usual four House tables were gone, replaced with a myriad of round, small, fancily decorated ones that could seat twelve. The tablecloths glimmered in the light from the star-lit ceiling like fresh snow. The plates and utensils were pure, neatly polished gold, and the centerpieces were magnificent works of art, made of enchanted ice and holly, which bloomed, budded and re-bloomed over and over again every few seconds.

"Mind if we joined you?" asked Fred and Angelina, who approached us. They were both dressed to the nines and looked happy, arm and arm and smiley.

"Not at all," I replied with a welcoming gesture. As they settled in, I asked, "Where's George?"

"Waiting for Holly, last we knew," Angelina replied. "I guess she's taking forever."

I nodded. After I had rejected George, I set him up with Holly, who didn't have a date either. Her dreams were crushed when Cedric asked Cho Chang, so I figured having a date would cheer her up a bit. And, of course, when George actually asked her, I thanked him kindly.

"She would be," I sighed.

After a few more minutes, Katie and Angus, Lee and Alicia, Malcolm Preece and Tamsin Applebee, and, finally, George and Holly, all joined us. Holly came looking like a gourmet cupcake, in a frilly, layered, and sparkling pink dress, with her hair in the most elaborate kind of updo that didn't even look like something humanly possible. But, she looked happy, so I figured I'd keep my mouth shut.

"Oh, thank Merlin we made it on time!" Holly exclaimed breathily, while George pushed her into the table. "I thought I'd be more than fashionably late."

"Well, you're just in time, Holls," I said with a strained smile. My stomach screamed, and as everyone was looking at me, I said, "Now I hope it's time for dinner."

"Yeah, me too," Angus agreed, rubbing his stomach through his dress robes. "Where the hell is the food, though? Shouldn't it just be….well….popping up?"

Right on cue, Professor Dumbledore, who looked as magnificent as ever from his place at the head table amongst the delegates and judges, yelled into his own plate. He exclaimed, "Pork chops!" and pork chops appeared on his plate.

We got the hint, and started screaming orders into our plates, just as everyone else did. I, of course, ordered one of everything on the menu, and gulped it all down. Dinner was marked with small talk, though I paid more attention to the food than what was being said around me. Once all the food was gone, I relaxed into my seat and grinned at Nate, who looked as happily clueless as ever.

Dumbledore, seeing that the latest feast was finished, waved his wand. The tables zoomed towards the walls, leaving a shiny dancefloor ready and cleared off for dancing. We went flying back with our seats, but as soon as they settled, we all got to our feet, eager to see what was going to happen. Thinking we'd have to dance immediately, Nate grabbed my hand with a death grip, and I smiled at him, seeing his nerves.

Another wave of Dumbledore's wand, and a stage appeared, complete with an array of instruments, including drunks, bagpipes, guitars, a cello, and a lute. With the stage in place, the whispering really began, and I thought some people (Holly) would just piss herself when the Weird Sisters, in "artfully" torn robes, clambered onto stage and took their instruments.

"Pretentious arsehats," I muttered to Nate, earning a brief chuckle from him.

Somehow, the four champions - Fleur, Cedric, Viktor and Harry - and their respective dates - Roger Davies, Cho Chang, Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil - instinctively knew to take the dance floor as the Weird Sisters played a rather depressing waltz tune. I vaguely recalled McGonagall mentioning that the champions had to take the floor first, traditionally, back when she made us all take those dreadful dance classes in which Angus squashed more than a couple of my toes.

I watched, hand in hand, with Nate, as the four sets of partners twirled about. Some looked great dancing, like Cedric and Cho (much to Holly's displeasure), whilst Parvati and Harry looked deathly awkward, so much so that I couldn't help but to laugh at them.

My laughing was cut short, though, as everyone else trickled to the floor. Nate tugged me along too, and before I realized what was happening, I was full on waltzing with Nathan Parker, something I never imagined I'd ever be doing in my life. He was kind of funny on his feet; he didn't have much rhythm. He had a suffocating grip on my hand and waist as well.

"Nate, ease up, mate," I whispered encouragingly. "Don't be self-conscious. All this formality is a load of hippogriff shit, after all. Who cares if we look foolish?"

He stared at me, hard, before smiling and saying, "You're right, Saoirse McAuley."

With that, he began twirling me about like a madman, much faster than the music allowed for. We looked like fools, I'm sure, but at least we were happy, giddy fools rather than self-conscious ones.

"Mr. Parker! Miss McAuley!" whispered McGonagall, harshly.

She looked so angry that her eyeballs were on the verge of popping out of their sockets, as she past by waltzing with tiny Professor Flitwick, who was dancing on magical stilts so that he could measure up with McGonagall.

Nate stopped dead in his tracks, and pulled me to a stop alongside him.

"Will you two please dance properly?" McGonagall requested. I could see we were testing her. "All I ask for is one proper waltz, and after that, you can dance as insanely and madly as you'd like. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, professor," Nate and I responded in unison. Nate sounded seriously afraid, and I sounded bored.

"Alright, then," she said with a final nod, before returning to Flitwick and his stilts.

As Nate and I got back into an awkward waltz, George and Holly whisked past us. Holly's mouth was going, and I could only imagine what nonsense she was babbling about. On the other hand, George was looking at me and laughing. He didn't have to say it, but I knew he was laughing about us getting a little lecture from McGonagall. I checked over my shoulder to make sure she wasn't watching, and then I gave him a very pleasant hand gesture in response to his laughter, before he and Holly were gone across the dancefloor.

Watching them go, my memory went back to the night in the common room about a month ago, after the first task of the tournament, when I was slightly drunk waltzing with George. I remembered how much fun I had, how strange it was that I had so much fun, since I was doing something so stupid, after all. I remember how much fun I had, and while remembering how much fun I had, there was a moment where I wished I was over there dancing with George instead of Holly.

The Weird Sisters suddenly changed their tune, starting to play their usual (bad) music. It was fast, too, so naturally everyone broke off from waltzing, and started screaming and dancing like animals as they surrounded the stage. Nate and I broke apart, and he bowed to me, and I returned the gesture by curtsying to him.

"Well, if you don't mind, Saoirse McAuley, this is where I turn in," Nate informed me. "This isn't my thing."

"Wait!" I said, as he turned - a new thought had just come to me.

"What?" he asked.

I drew closer to him, laying a hand on his shoulder, as I told him, "Well, remember that box we found, with the family crest on it?" Of course, he did, so I continued, "Well….it opened….by itself, on my birthday. I was going to bed and my trunk startling rattling like someone was trapped in there, and when I opened it the box was on top, when I know for a fact it was buried at the bottom. It was open, too, and there's this necklace inside of it, with my birthday engraved into it…."

With his real thinker face on, Nate stroked his chin, and then offered, "I'll take a look at it for you, if you want."

Smirking, I retorted, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Well," Nate shrugged. "If you turned it into a faculty member, they'd probably just confiscate it from you, and your grandad would do something similar, too. Give it to me tomorrow, and I'll take a look, hm?"

"Thanks mate," I said earnestly, giving him another good clap on the shoulder.

"Not a problem," Nate winked at me, before disappearing towards the tables.

"So, how was dancing with Parker?"

Turning, I saw that it was George talking to me.

Along with a grin and a shrug, I responded, "He's got about twelve left feet, if that tells you anything."

"And you looked like just as much as a nutter as him, the way you were flouncing around out there," he teased.

"Waltzing gets boring, what can I say?" I shrugged through some chuckles. Changing the subject as I glanced upon the crowd of overeager teens trying to mosh before the Weird Sisters, I said, "And now the Weird Sisters."

George followed my glance, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked at the band. He commented, "Terribly overrated, aren't they?"

Much like McGonagall earlier, my eyes felt like they could've popped right out of their sockets.

"Finally someone who agrees with me!" I exclaimed, a bit overexcited.

"Yeah, they're really overplayed on the WWN," George said. "I haven't given much Muggle music a try, though….maybe you can show me some sometime, though, eh?"

I cocked my head, with a bemused smile. "George Weasley, are you trying to flirt with me?"

Caught red-handed, George faltered, and flushed a bit as he scratched the back of his head.

"And failing miserably, aren't I?" he chuckled.

I laughed. "You're funny."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Esther on the edge of the dance floor, waving me over.

"Excuse me," I said to George, as Esther looked a little frantic.

I didn't hear his reply as I hurried over to Esther. She hadn't put any effort into her look this evening. She was wearing a black mini-dress she wore out a lot when we adventure in London, and her hair was her bedhead, I could tell. It'd nearly faded all out, being a pastel green now. She had put contacts in, though, so I guess that counted for some effort, or something.

"Hey, since you've been stuck to Coco Chanel lately, I didn't get a chance to give you this," Esther said. She pulled a little velvet bag, the kind that you got at jewelry stores, and thrust it into my hands.

"What is it?" I asked, staring at the purple drawstring bag that fit perfectly in my palm.

"Your mom's wedding ring," Esther informed me. It was a well known fact that our mothers had been best friends since they were both first years in Slytherin, that's why we were friends, after all. "My mom's been holding onto it for years….she sent it along with my Christmas package and said that she thinks you should have it now that you're a woman or whatever."

"Well, I'll write her and tell her thanks," I said.

Esther stared at me, before commanding, "Open it!"

"Fine," I muttered.

I wished the moment of opening my mother's wedding ring wasn't tainted by the Weird Sisters' music or the screaming of three schools' worth of teenagers, but fate determined it must be so. I opened the drawstring and poured the contents into my hands - it was a thin kind of leather chain necklace, with two things hanging off the end - an old padlock and a plain ring. The ring was just a silver band with the tiniest of opals in the middle, and on the inside, a familiar engraving, "J.E.G. + A.C.M. 12/21/77."

I felt sick to my stomach, in the weirdest of ways. If this ring was my mother's….did that mean the necklace from the box was hers as well?


End file.
